


Catch You, Catch Me

by zeski



Category: Cardcaptor Sakura, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Adaptation, Adventure, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fetus Direction, First Love, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Magic, Magical Liam Payne, Magical Zayn Malik, Rivalry, Self-Indulgent, Spirits, Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-03
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:47:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 35,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21660034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zeski/pseuds/zeski
Summary: One day, Zayn discovers his magical powers after accidentally freeing a set of magical cards from a book in his dad's library. He meets the cards' guardian, Keroberos, who entrusts him with one task: to retrieve all the cards and stop an unknown worldwide catastrophe.
Relationships: Liam Payne & Josh Devine, Louis Tomlinson & Original Male Character(s), Zayn Malik & Harry Styles, Zayn Malik/Liam Payne
Comments: 3
Kudos: 11





	1. Zayn and the Mysterious Book

**Author's Note:**

> (Yes, this is a Card Captor Sakura AU. Yes, it's self-indulgent.)
> 
> I took some liberties and made the boys all tweens/teens instead of little kids, because I deem more plausible to deal with feelings at that age. And although Zayn is this verse's Sakura, I've changed some things, like him having both parents.
> 
> Important: you won't find adults "dating" kids/teens like in the original series. I love CCS, but that stuff was recurring and happened like THREE times. That's my biggest issue with the source material. It never settled well with me as a kid and it definitely doesn't now that I'm also a grown-up.
> 
> Cheers!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zayn comes home to an empty house and a noisy library.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Accompanying [moodboard](https://zeskiyo.tumblr.com/post/189590279575/catch-you-catch-me-by-zeski-language-english).

Catch You, Catch Me

_“Zayn? Still sleeping, love?”_

Despite the soft knocking, Zayn leaps off bed. Any remaining sleep is gone, replaced by the sharp pain from connecting his shoulder to the wooden floor. He must have tossed a lot to wake up this tangled in his sheets.

“Coming, Mum!” he grunts back, though his sourness isn’t directed at her.

 _“Brekky is ready,”_ she chirps. Her morning mood often makes Zayn question they’re really related. Maybe he’s actually been dropped off at her doorstep in a basket by a fugitive sorceress. _“Don’t go back to bed!”_

Pushing himself off the floor, Zayn glares at his alarm clock. He’s sure he’d set it before going to bed. Yet, the white, fist-sized cube with constellations patterns just stays there, conspicuously _silent_.

No good will come out of it, so to the shower he rushes. That’s one of his strong points. He might be slow to start, but once he starts, nothing can stop him. He’s also fairly good in doing things quickly, like all the times he’s finished homework before leaving the house.

“Don’t take too long, or I’m leaving your arse behind, Gremlin.”

Zayn kisses his dad’s cheek, then saunters over to his mum next. Only then, he takes his seat at the table, acknowledging his brother’s words. Sticking his tongue isn’t essential to a greeting, but it also doesn’t stop him.

“ _Morning_ , Bas,” he replies, pulling the chair forwards.

Papa Malik sets a plate before him. “Trouble Sleeping?”

A difficult question. Zayn remembers sleeping like a log—not even getting up to pee—but then he had that strange dream. He remembers it vividly: he watches the city below, dressed in a pink cape. A teddy bear hovers beside him, and the Watkin’s Tower stands across from him whilst play cards rain down like snow. Then, he plunges into the mouth of a lion.

 _Definitely_ a strange dream.

“Alarm didn’t go off.” He shrugs it off. “Don’t worry, _Baba_.”

Mama Malik is the first one to leave the table. Basil follows her suit. Papa Malik is already loading the dishwasher, getting ready to work on his newest novel. Suddenly, it’s just Zayn and his half finished plate. He’s gonna be so late for his first day of this new term.

“Oi! Wait for me!” he calls out, upon hearing the front door unlock and lock again. He zooms into the kitchen, dropping the plate and cups in the sink. “Bas, wait!”

Practice makes it easy to slip his protective gear on. Helmet goes first. Elbow, wrist and knee pads follow next, then it’s time for his skates. Although his mum has suggested a bike, it’s inline skates that give Zayn the freedom he seeks. His inability to balance himself onto two wheels is another point to consider— why have two wheels when he can _quadruple_ that?

“Honestly surprised you ate all that so fast,” Basil says, watching Zayn pant beside him. “And that’s not a compliment, Gremlin.”

“Would ya—”

“Hiya! Zayn, Bas!”

Zayn’s frown blossoms into a smile. There’s no day bad enough that Louis Tomlinson can’t make him smile. Be it with jokes, or simply by _existing_. He won’t ever get how someone like Louis can be mates with his foolish brother. Though, he reckons, Basil’s calling in life _isn’t_ to pester Louis.

“Hey, Lou.” Basil brakes, one foot coming to the ground. “Up early today?”

Louis laughs. “A bit too excited to sleep proper, I reckon.”

“You’re the only one excited about school. Weirdo.”

Well, Zayn sympathises. He’s made sure of going to bed extra earlier after hearing that Louis also had transferred to Basil’s new school. Luck has finally smiled at him, and this is his chance to see Louis every morning. It doesn’t get any better than this.

“I know how it is,” Zayn says. “It’s cool, really.”

“Says the gremlin that has overslept this morning.”

Again, Louis laughs. The laugh with crinkly eyes, so intense that his fringe falls over his piercing, blue eyes. Just for this reason he holds back on kicking Basil’s shin.

“Well, we need sleep to grow taller,” he replies, more directed at Zayn than Basil. The little wink makes Zayn’s ears hotter. “I’d be sleeping, too.”

Basil rolls his eyes, then lightly shoves Louis on the shoulder. “Let’s go, Defender of the Defenceless.”

Such a short journey. Much shorter than Zayn would have liked, in fact. Once they reach his school, he’s left with Louis’ and Basil’s back’s disappearing down the street. But before they escape his view, Louis throws something to him. Between Zayn’s palms rests a round candy in striped wrapper.

“Definitely knows the way to a boy’s heart.”

“Harry! Don’t scare me like tha’!” he chides.

“Morning, Zed.” Harry glances at the candy, then grins. “He’s thoughtful. Smooth pass, too!”

And before Zayn can point out that Louis is a gentleman, Harry’s already making his way through the courtyard.

#

“ _Baba_?”

Not home, according to their board. The message says Papa Malik has gone to the supermarket. Mama Malik and Basil won’t be back till much later. It’s just Zayn in the Malik household.

Him, and this ominous grumbling from his dad’s basement library.

If his practice baton appeals as a good weapon at first, he soon drops it in favour of Basil’s cricket bat. To call the police, he has to at least make sure there’s someone in the house. He’ll take a peek and come back. The bat is just a preventive measure, in case he has to fight his way back to the door.

 _God_ , he wishes it wouldn’t remind him so much of a thriller film.

Slowly, he grabs the doorknob. The door is still locked, so hopefully it’s a small animal. A cat would be nice, but he’ll even settle for a rat, if it means no robber. He’ll take even a ghost over an actual person, and spirits are his least favourite thing in this world and the next. _Crap._

No one by the stairs. It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust to the poor lighting, but there’s no one around. It’s just his dad’s library, like always. A bunch of shelves stashed with all kinds of books, some older than his and Basil’s ages combined.

Zayn’s shoulders sag. “I’m hearing thin—”

The noise again. Louder, now that the door no longer stands between it and Zayn. More distinctive as well, seeing that this time it sounds like a beast growling... or snoring. The worst case of snore Zayn has ever heard. Worse than his granddad, for sure.

No time for hesitation, though. To avoid a nasty fall, Zayn turns the light closest to the bottom of the stairs. Step by step, he makes his way down, bat overhead. The noise comes again, and he follows it, peeking from behind a shelf.

“What the—”

No one. No cat, no rat, and definitely no masked stranger. Nothing but another tidy bookshelf. He even falls silent for a moment, to make sure, but there’s no noise. If there is, isn’t as audible. And he doubts books—under normal conditions—make noise by themselves.

As Zayn turns around, he catches a glimpse of a glow. He tilts his head left and right, and under the right angle, yes, he sees a book reflect the light. A hologram sticker, maybe?

“Is this Mum’s?” He stares at the book in his hand. It’s a grimoire—his dad has told him about those—with a distinctive winged lion guarding over the sun on the cover. _Were you making tha’ noise?_

The leather strap that binds the book together pops open. Zayn is sure he’s seen a small spark, too, but it’s gone too soon. He’s more intrigued by what’s inside: a set of tarot cards stashed in the carved hollow in the centre. He picks the topmost card.

Although he’s not versed in tarot, this one seems different. An ideogram replaces what would otherwise be a roman number at the top, and the centre depicts a close-eyed woman of long hair. She also sports dragonfly wings overlapped over her body, just like her arms and hair.

“The... Windy?”

As soon as he utters the words, a mandala of light shines at his feet. A column of wind swallows him up. It’s no tornado, but it’s strong enough to give him trouble breathing. With his hair whipping around, he can barely keep his eyes open, either. The hand he holds the card refuses to move, almost as if controlled by something else.

“No! Stop—!”

The gust, however, never relents. It blows, merciless, eventually carrying more cards out the book. Zayn tries to shield them against his body, but they all pass _through_ him. Through him and through the walls of his basement.

When the light dies out and the wind stops, Zayn collapses to his knees, gasping for air. The now empty book also hits the floor, and after a moment, is starts to glow. This glare begins to take form, and finally a winged teddy bear-like creature surfaces from the hardcover.

The bear opens its eyes, yawning as it stretches its stubby arms. “Aye, that was a good kip!”

Zayn blinks. “Bloody hell...”

#

“Your father is a great cook!”

“Thanks...” Zayn sits backwards on his chair, resting his chin on his forearms. “Wha’ are you, Ko... Ko...”

“Keroberos,” the creature corrects, shovelling a spoonful of pudding into its mouth that’s hardly the size of its head. It hums at the flavour, tiny wings fluttering a bit. “I’ve told ya, mate. I’m a guardian to the Clow Cards.”

 _Yeah, right._ Zayn hasn’t decided on how to digest that one. It’s not like he can explain what Keroberos is. Stuffed toys aren’t warm, don’t fly, nor do they jump out of books. Last time he checked, they didn’t eat pudding, either. But here he is, watching a creature that defies all common sense compliment his dad’s cooking skills.

“So, Zaynie—”

“It’s Zayn.”

“—what did you say that happened to the cards?”

Reaching for his desk, Zayn picks a card up. “Like this one?” He holds it to Keroberos, who nods vehemently. “They sorta... flew away? I read this here and... some crazy wind scattered them.”

“Ye lost them all?”

Zayn titters. “I guess so?”

Keroberos also laughs. “It happens, right?”

Their laughter lasts about a minute. Then, Keroberos drops his spoon, squishing Zayn’s cheeks between its small paws.

“WHAT?!”

Its words are almost unintelligible. Keroberos keeps preaching about the world’s doom, and how it needs to collect the cards. It’s flying around circles and screaming. Too loud, too.

Zayn snatches Keroberos up, holding it against his chest, just in time for the door to open.

“Keep it down, Gremlin!” Basil orders, his head peeking from behind the door. His eyes land on Keroberos struggling in Zayn’s arms. “Since _when_ you like teddy bears?”

“They’re good... uh... for stress, yeah!”

Basil snorts, shaking his head as he retreats. “You’re 12, Gremlin. Your only source of stress is remembering the multiplication table.”

“I thought— Are ye trying to kill me?” Keroberos flies out of Zayn’s grasp, gasping. “Anyway, ye have The Fiery and The Earthy with ye? I need them to go look for the other cards.”

Zayn remains silent.

“Ye... don’t?”

“Like I said, they _all_ flew out,” Zayn rectifies.

“Oh my Clow...”

#

“Can you remind me why we’re here, please?”

“We’re here to capture that card,” Keroberos says, pointing to the aeroplane-sized, blue bird above them. “It’s yer job to clean yer mess, mate.”

“I don’t wanna hear it from a guardian taking a kip for 30 years, _mate_.”

Late at night, rollerskating in his pyjamas. That’s not how Zayn had anticipated his night. And he’s tried to convince Keroberos to do it the next day, but it’d be too late. The city might as well be ruined by then, when every flap of the bird’s wings shatters windows.

Luckily, the bird isn’t too fast, meaning they reach it before it exits the city. Not so luckily, the beast also owns sharp ears. And the moment it catches Zayn and Keroberos arguing, it homes in on them.

Zayn ducks out of the first tackle. The gust generated by the attack is enough to drag him for metres, so he doesn’t want to imagine what a head-on collision can do. What kind of self-proclaimed guardian puts a kid in a life-threatening situation? Why do his parents even own that bloody book?

“It’s coming back!” Keroberos yells. “Do it like I taught ye. I’ll be the decoy.”

“Oi! Wait!”

Keroberos is already out of reach. Then it’s Zayn in the middle of an empty road, looking around for help that won’t come. He’s starting to question how finding a robber instead of that book would be worse.

Fiddling with his pyjama top, he fishes for a thin necklace he hasn’t worn before. The odd key with a bird-like head rests in his palm. If he can do anything about this, it’s the time to find out.

“Key that conceals the power of darkness, show your true form before us,” he chants. A sphere of light envelopes the pendant, keeping it afloat in his hand. “I, Zayn, command you under our contract. Release!”

The pendant enlarges and lengthens for about a metre. When Zayn grabs his newly formed staff, and twirls around his hand, the light dies out. He doesn’t feel any different, even though Keroberos has assured him he has _“latent powers”_ or something.

“Okay, now wha’?” he asks no one, looking up at the bird trying to eat Keroberos whole. “How am I going to get the— Nonononononono! Fuck, no!”

“Why yer running away?”

No particular reason. Maybe it’s the massive bird menacingly approaching from behind. The prospect of being rammed by said bird into the shotcrete wall could be another one. But Zayn’s favourite reason is, by far, becoming bird food.

Again, no particular reason, really.

“You want me to fight tha’ thing!” Zayn yells. “Are you bonkers?!”

The bird spits a burst of air that flings both of them in the air. Zayn manages to land on the monster’s back, surprised to find fur-like feathers.

High. Way too high for someone scared of heights. And whilst Zayn is frozen, gripping at the fur like his life depends on it (and it does), his only chance is to force the bird down. It’s not a matter of what to do, but how he’ll achieve it.

_You can do it, love._

Now, Zayn has officially lost it. He has to be hallucinating to catch anything other than the bird’s singing.

_I’m here with you. I believe in you._

The voice is gentle. Although Zayn doesn’t fully recognise it, it’s somehow familiar. Which is a little concerning for somebody atop a giant magical bird, flying over the city, but whatever.

_Do it._

With _“fuck it!”_ as his last thought, he fishes a lone card from his chest pocket. The disembodied voice and Keroberos believe him, so might as well side with them. And he’s yet to figure what in the voice soothes him, but it does, and he’s no longer stiff.

“O zephyr, become a binding chain!” He throws the card forward, the same mandala of light lighting up under him. He twirls the staff in his right hand. “Windy!"

Hitting the card with the beak of the staff causes it to glow. The winged woman from the card come forth. Except for the green crest on her forehead, she’s completely cream-coloured, becoming long threads in the air. Little by little, she restrains the crane’s wings, legs, and neck, toppling it to the ground. Zayn slides off, skating through a dust cloud.

“Return to the humble guise that you’re meant to be in!” He holds his staff overhead, then swings it down. “Clow Card!”

A rectangular light appears at the beak of the staff. From it, a vortex vacuums the bird up, till it’s a shapeless mass that disappears completely. Once suction fades, two cards fall at Zayn’s feet. One reads _The Windy_ , and a second, new one, depicts an imposing crane named _The Fly_.

“Ye did it, Zaynie!” Keroberos beams, flying in Zayn’s direction. “Ye were—”

Zayn doubles over to the side of the road with urgency. Raising his head again, he wipes at his mouth. The colour has drained from his face, and his breathing comes out in small puffs.

“—going to die because of you!” he supplies. His attempt at a glare falls flat because he can’t stop tasting bile on his tongue. “I told ya; _Not_ doing this, mate.”

Keroberos guffaws, patting his head. “Complex experiences make ye a better adult, you know.”

“When we get home, I’m burning that book,” Zayn says, eyes narrowed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> For inquiries on prompts and AUs, reach me @[zeskiyo](https://zeskiyo.tumblr.com/) on tumblr, or @[zeskiverse](https://twitter.com/zeskiverse) on twitter.


	2. Zayn's Wonderful Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zayn and Kero's secret isn't _that_ secret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Although I'm taking titles directly from the episode list, they don't necessarily have direct equivalence. Sometimes it'll be a bit more leaning either version, a mix of both, or me reimagining most of it.
> 
> Accompanying [moodboard](https://zeskiyo.tumblr.com/post/189675477440/catch-you-catch-me-by-zeski-language-english).
> 
> Cheers!

**II**

When Harry says they need to talk, Zayn imagines a dozen reasons but the real one. Not in a million years would he anticipate the video on the small screen of the camcorder. Not in his wildest dreams.

“Let me zoom in,” Harry says, pressing a button.

The small point in the sky night becomes clearer. There’s Zayn with both eyes closed, riding a staff with two large wings flapping behind it. By Zayn’s head, a yellow-furred, winged creature gesticulates with its stubby arms.

Zayn sucks his bottom lip in. “Where... where did you get tha’?”

“Videoing the sky last night,” Harry replies, tone still even. “Mum’s team developed this new bad boy, and I had to try it out.”

The thing with Harry is that he’s _Harry_. Maybe it’s the way his mum has raised him, but he never really pushes for answers. He’ll let you know he knows, and that’s that. If you want to talk, he’ll be all ears. If you decide to keep it in, he won’t pry, either.

It’s the best _and_ the worst thing altogether one want in a friend.

Harry leans in, voice considerably lower. “I haven’t shown it to anyone, of course.”

“I— Thanks, Haz.”

As students flood into the room, Zayn ponders what he’ll tell his friend. It’s not as if he understands it any better, is it? Explaining what he can’t explain can’t be simple. He’ll need help. _Kero’s_ help. And even then, he isn’t too sure of what he can (or _hopes_ to) accomplish.

#

“Oi, you guys heard it?”

Zayn tenses up before he even glances at the owner of that voice. Nothing ever good comes from Chas’ stories. Whenever she has ‘news’, it’s some urban legend, rumour, or weird stuff.

Technically, magic does count as weird, but it’s within tolerable levels for Zayn: he can see and touch Kero, the Clow cards, and his staff. Vagrant souls, spirits, curses and the like? He can’t see, nor touch that. Doesn’t want to, either.

“What now, _Chastity_?” Harry asks in an uninterested tone, tying his hair up in a bun. “We’re eating here.”

“It’s nothing gross, _Harold!_ ” She drops unceremoniously on the bench, leaning over the table and her tray. Her frown gives way to a rather satisfied grin. “I heard somebody almost drowned in the pool today.”

Zayn’s shoulders sag as he resumes his meal. Drowning is bad, but it’s a _normal_ bad. He can deal with this much, yeah. Plus, it implies Chas wasn’t there, and therefore can’t confirm it. Everything remains under control.

“But that’s not the interesting part,” Chas carries on, looking between them with a distinctive twinkle in her eye. “They say something grabbed his leg, but no one saw _anything_ in the water.”

The sharp intake of air is sure to draw unrequited attention. Zayn freezes up. Might as well not breathe out, risking another incriminating noise. If for some miracle his breathing hasn’t given him away, his bent fork and pale knuckles surely have.

“Oh, I know the name for that!” Harry exclaims, snapping his fingers. Chas promptly stands up and leans closer, till she’s face-to-face with him. “We call it ‘cramps’.”

Whilst Chas slouches down on her seat, Zayn shares a conspicuous smile with Harry. In many ways, he’s spoilt by how easily his mate gets cues from him. And the dictionary might have lots of words, but they’re still won’t suffice to convey Zayn’s gratitude.

“Oi, don’t shoot a girl’s hope down like that! Anulika has done that already!” Chas pricks the bang on her plate with her fork, then waves it round. Her mouth is droopy and her shoulders sag visibly. “I was excited for a spirit or summat!”

Zayn coughs. “Can’t believe everything you hear, yeah?”

Her mouth twists and scrunches up. “I suppose.”

#

“Hi, little mate! I’m Harry.”

“Haz, you can talk nor—”

“Shh, Zed!” he hisses back, waving for Zayn to stay behind him. His attention returns to Kero’s expectant figure, and he takes another step forwards, revealing a handful of seeds. “Don’t be afraid. I bring friendship sunflower seeds!”

Zayn slaps a palm to his forehead, drags it over his face and keeps it over his mouth. “Harry, he’s not a bloody _hamster_.”

As to drive the point home, Kero hovers to Zayn’s head, landing on all fours.

“Who’s the odd kid, Zayn?” it asks. It stomps its arms down before floating into Harry’s personal space. “Why should I be afraid, if I can’t feel any magic from ye, kiddo?”

When Harry stumbles backwards onto the bed, and sunflower seeds rain down, Zayn decides to mediate this conversation. Like he’s had originally intended. Before _someone_ decided to play Crocodile Hunter.

On the bright side, Kero sounds more offended by being considered a threat than by the misplaced peace offering. Most people would take offence in the pet food, but again, Kero isn’t most people.

No people _at all_ , if they are to go into technicalities.

“Anybody wants cake?”

 _Gosh._ Upon seeing Harry’s blank expression, Zayn makes a mental of improving his hosting abilities. At least Kero’s reaction is positive, though that’s likely the food involved.

“Yes, please!” Kero beams, spiralling his way through the air before landing on Harry’s head. “I’ll keep this weird kid company. Go fetch one of yer dad’s delicacies.”

Does it sound wise? Not particularly, no. But Zayn has already offered food, and things will go sour if he denies Kero that cake. It’s not like he’ll come back to find one of these two dead, either. As long as Kero hides from his family, all should be fine.

Or so he hopes.

“Bas!” Zayn’s voice comes out squeaky and high-pitched, and undoubtedly _guilty_. The opposite of what he needs, but he doesn’t expect Basil outside his bedroom door. “Uh, need anything?”

“Heard ya talking,” Basil says. He leans sideways for a peek into the room, prompting Zayn to discreetly pull the door behind him. “I hope you’re not bringing boys into your room.”

The bedroom door is pried from Zayn’s hand, but from behind him.

“Looking for me, my dear _Brazil_?” Harry bats his eyelashes.

“One day we’ll both be adults.” He bends slightly, matching Harry’s eye level. “And on that day, I swear I’ll _fight_ you, Styles.”

Harry places both hands to his chest in mock surprise. “Do I hear a proposal?”

A fourth voice joins in the conversation, to which Zayn readily perks up. He regrets not changing into nicer clothes, but hey, he’s still presentable. Much worse would be wearing one of his favourite beaten-up shirts he always wears at home.

“Don’t tease them, mate,” Louis says, pulling Basil upright with an apologetic smile. Most of the time—and here Zayn daresay a solid 90%—he’s the voice of reason for Basil. “Hullo, lads. What are you two up to?”

“Eating Mr. Malik’s cake, hopefully!” Harry replies, throwing his arms around Zayn’s neck. “ _Right_ , Zed?”

Although he catches on the not-so-subtle tug, Zayn doesn’t react to it. Instead of taking the cue offered, he swims in the clear sea of Louis’ eyes, diving deeper and deeper. It matches his current goldfish impersonation, though that doesn’t make this moment any less embarrassing.

“They’re bringing some for us, too.” It’s Basil’s turn to pull Louis upright, and he does so along with a cocked eyebrow at Zayn. “We’ll be in my room. Styles, you help him.”

Harry’s claims that he’s _“just a visitor”_ are largely ignored, and then Zayn is scrambling, almost _tumbling_ down the stairs. Hopefully, there’s enough cake for four people. Otherwise, he’ll be sorry for his brother and Harry.

Plates, cups and forks find a spot inside the old wood tray. Louis’ gets higher priority, of course, but fortunately there’s enough for four. Kero doesn’t care for a drink, so three are enough.

Zayn puffs a small breath, slaps his cheeks twice, and balances everything on his hands. He rehearses his dialogue with Louis a few times before leaving the kitchen. It should be okay. He can do it.

“You should let Brazil—”

“Quiet, Haz!” Zayn hisses, still focused on his every step. The stairs make it harder than expected, and more than once he comes close to knocking a drink over. “Let me knock—”

 _Oh._ Knocking, yeah. That would be interesting, given that his hands are full. Sure, he could try something else, thrusting the tray against his hip, but that sounds like a recipe for a disaster. Not including all the shards, glass and blood it includes.

It goes less disastrous than that, fortunately, as the door clicks open.

“That’s really you.” Louis smiles. “I had a feeling you were here.”

Basil leans backwards onto his office chair, his head also coming into view. The scepticism in his cocked eyebrow shrinks Zayn a bit. There’s something coming, and both know it.

“That was _awfully_ fast for you.”

Zayn gulps some air. “I— hmm, I...”

“He meant ‘thank you for being so quick,’” Louis corrects, picking up a cup and a plate, then another pair. “Cheers, Zayn.”

“It was nothing,” Zayn says quietly. His own feet are suddenly too enthralling, and it may or may not relate to the heat in his cheeks and ears. “I’ll let you two study.”

It’s hard to not melt into a puddle right there and then, but Zayn succeeds. (He’s stammered _once_ , so it has to count as a success.) Once the door closes on his face, it’s really done. Then, he beelines back to his own room, shoving Harry, tray and snacks inside.

“Ye look weary.” Kero flies under the tray, lifting it onto the small desk. “What happened?”

No response. Zayn is half sure he’s heard it right, and honestly he doesn’t care. He’s too busy sliding down his door, chuckling to himself, and replaying Louis’ words.

“What Clow Cards?” he asks, giggling at Louis’ smile burnt onto his brain. “I don’t care any more.”

#

“I said I don’t care. Why am I here?”

“It’s a Card Captor’s duty to investigate,” Kero replies, balling a tiny fist. “It almost drowned ye, too, didn’t it?”

Yeah, but does Zayn really care about it? He’s mostly over it. Not to mention ‘drowning’ makes it worse than some invisible force yanking his ankle. Or maybe he’s still focused on Louis’ thanks. Who knows, really?

“Okay, but wha’ with the girls’ clothes?” He stares down at the multi-pronged, jester skirt he has on. He’s thankful the bells on each prong are fake, but this hardly makes up for the questionable design. “And why are _you_ here?”

“One, clothes don’t have gender,” Harry says, lifting a finger, and then a second one. “And two, special occasions need special clothes.”

They’re ganging up on him, Zayn is sure. It’s past bedtime, he’s dressed like a jester shagged an umbrella, and has just broken into school. Compared to this, sneaking out in his pyjamas last night seems tame. It doesn’t help that his prospects of success are low, too.

But Kero has insisted, and then Harry some more. They’ve insisted on investigating the causes of all the near-drownings in the pool. If it’s not a Clow Card, there’s nothing they can do about it, and it will cost Zayn some nights of nightmares. If it’s a Clow Card, he has to capture it, although that’s near impossible with just the two currently in his possession.

Kero has explained it, even if it’s still hazy and murky: the four elements—earth, fire, water and fire—rule over remaining cards, and therefore embody powerful magic. Whereas it’s easy to subdue cards under them, capturing a high-level card, in principle, can’t be done without specific preparations.

“I still don’t wanna do this.” Zayn exhales sharply. “I _really_ don’t wanna do this.”

“Well, I don’t see any other mages available,” Harry chirps, and that must have something to do with the camcorder in his hand. “Now, do it like we’ve practiced.”

Sighing, Zayn extends his right arm, Clow key set on his palm. Just like before, he chants the spell to transform it into a staff. This time, however, he twirls it around himself, switching hands behind his back before bringing it back to the front again.

Kero blinks. “He’s actually good.”

“Years of baton practice,” Harry replies. “Awful at maths, but also very athletic.”

Clearing his throat does nothing to end conversation, but it’s all Zayn can do. Between an alleged best mate and a potential, supernatural threat, his choice should be easy. But would he ever be dressed as a jester in an empty school, had ‘easy’ been an option?

 _Yeah_ , he doubts that.

“Don’t come out till I say you can,” he instructs Harry. When Harry’s eyes light up, he rushes to add, “ _Don’t_. You know wha’ I mean by tha’.”

The pool looks unchanged. Lane ropes, stripes of navy and teal tiles at the bottom— everything is the same as earlier, or any other day. But these placid waters conceal danger, and Zayn has experienced it. What grabbed his ankle during P.E. is still there, lurking, awaiting its next victim.

“Oi, wet knobhead!” He points his staff at the pool. “Come out and fight me!”

A lull goes before a small whirlpool swirls, faster and faster. The larger it grows, the more it spills water. In mere seconds, a small waterspout rises, revealing a malicious shadow within it.

_Invisible in the water? Must be Watery. Short-tempered, that one. Provoke it, and it’ll chase ye._

Kero just failed to mention the part it’d also try to kill Zayn. Because as soon as the card is out of the pool, it squirts a high-pressure stream at him. One that Zayn barely dodges, though he swiftly recovers, rolling back onto his feet.

“Fly!” He activates the card, straddling his staff. Fear of heights have no place, as the rush of adrenaline bids him to run away. Or fly, in this case. “Come get me, wet twat!”

The chasing leads into the main building, through a window Harry has left open. Over flights of stairs, Zayn soars, dodging water shots that explode against walls, floor and windows. One of those will surely hurt. Several, and he might as well get ready for his own funeral.

They arrive at the canteen, deep into an area off limits for students. The goal is already in sight: a large, shiny, metallic door hold open with a pink bag.

“O Zephyr, guide my foe to its cold slumber,” he chants, hopping off his staff with another card in grip. “Windy!”

The cream-coloured lady comes forth and a breeze swirls in the room, opening the metallic door ajar. Watery and Windy swirl around each other, and into the freezer room. The waterspout begins to lose speed, and takes form as a feisty, long-haired girl with fin-like ears and massive fins for wings. As she bares her fangs at Zayn, he pushes the door closed.

“Ye can catch water if it’s frozen,” Kero muses out loud from atop Harry’s head. He’s nodding and pointing to a dial with the Celsius in it. “Good thinking, Zayn.”

Zayn glares. “You make it sound easy, don’t ya?”

They wait until The Windy card slips out to open the freezer. When they pry the heavy door open, a beautiful ice sculpture of a girl reaching for it greets them. Her every detail has been frozen perfectly.

“Return to the humble guise you’re meant to be in!” Zayn holds his staff up. “Clow Card!”

The sculpture shatters, and shards of ice spiral into a blue, rectangular light. When all are gone, a card falls to the floor. The illustration on it depicts a close-eyed girl with a tiara of scales and two long fins folded over her torso and long fish tail.

“Two high-level cards,” Kero says, picking the card up. “Ye can’t find a better Card Captor.”

“You can’t find _any_ other Card Captor,” Zayn corrects.

Even if he should be flattered, he’s more worried about risking his life regularly. He has, after all, just escaped a few extra holes in his head. And maybe he shouldn’t focus on what hasn’t passed, but that’s not happening right now.

“I’ve got my footage and my model is safe. That’s all I need.” Harry pats his camcorder. “I’m sure our next capture will be easier.”

Although his knees give out, Zayn has enough energy to quirk an eyebrow. “‘Our’?”

Harry grins. “Every hero needs a sidekick. And a hero suit.”

“I like yer mind,” Kero chimes in.

Zayn would tell both to sod off. Tonight, he won’t. Convoluted and confusing as it is, Harry’s contribution is undeniable. Getting the keys and trespassing is several times better than breaking into the school. A secret isn’t a secret when told, but now he has someone to share the burden with, and his shoulders become slightly lighter.

“ _Never_ said I’m doing any of this stuff,” he says at last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> For inquiries on prompts and AUs, reach me @[zeskiyo](https://zeskiyo.tumblr.com/) on tumblr, or @[zeskiverse](https://twitter.com/zeskiverse) on twitter.


	3. Zayn and Memories of Daadi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zayn and his friends investigate paranormal activity at the local lake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Accompanying [moodboard](https://zeskiyo.tumblr.com/post/189793579225/catch-you-catch-me-by-zeski-language-english).

**III**

More cards appear over the next few months. Some captures take more effort—a chase through the park, or finding one ink-stained under the carpet—but all end in success. In two and a half months, Zayn has retrieved six Clow Cards. Hardly many, when there’s 52 in total, but it’s a good start for a newbie. Kero has said so, too.

Experience... _yeah_ , Zayn would say he’s gotten a fair bit of it. Unwillingly, but still experience. He understands better what it means to fight offence or defence cards, and their different personalities. From Jump stealing plush toys as its ‘friends’ to Woody reverting into a card on its own.

Each card is a universe. Just like people.

“Have you guys heard?”

And speaking of people...

“What now, _Chastity?_ ” Harry asks, though his bored tone makes his interest hollow. Might as well be doing it out of politeness, just to give her an outlet. “I have a guess, but... I’ll let you speak.”

She grins wide. “They’ve found a ghost in Ladywood Lake. A ghost!”

Zayn instinctively latches onto Harry’s arm. Harry rolls his eyes. Chas either doesn’t mind or doesn’t notice, and both work in her favour. There’s something dangerous about familiarity, and that’s the ability of ignoring your friends ignoring you.

“It’s for real,” she insists. “And we’re checking it out after school. Tomorrow.”

“Who are ‘they’”—Harry air quotes—“that keep telling you this stuff, anyway?”

“My network,” she replies, as if it’s the most obvious conclusion. “Well, mostly Niall.”

Harry grimaces at Zayn. “Again, who’s Niall?”

“It’s bollocks.” Zayn lets out a stifled little laugh. “That’s ‘cos you believe in strange stuff _,_ like tha’ time with the pool.” He shares a look with Harry, before turning to her again. “C’mon, Chas.”

As much as Zayn hates to damper her—or anyone’s—excitement, he also knows no good will come out of this. He lets Chas talk some more, and he’ll be dragged into yet another ghost hunt. He doesn’t need that. He doesn’t _want_ that. So, this is a small price he’s willing to pay, interest included.

Harry is here, too. For moral—and physical, because he hasn’t let go of Harry’s arm—support. On the chance Chas insists they visit the lake, Zayn is sure he can always count on his best mate to try and—

“Okay, Chastity. When are we going?”

—fuck him over, it seems.

Zayn nearly snaps his own neck in two. “Wait. We’re wha’?!”

Chas claps her hands together, then lay them flat on the table. Zayn wonders if she’s going to transmute it into his grave, because he’s going to need one.

“Great.” She hops to her feet, adjusting her glasses. “Near Lady Victory, today, after club activities.”

As soon as she’s gone, Zayn coils his arms around Harry’s biceps, half-sure he’d been a boa constrictor in a previous life. The pressure earns him a confused look, but at least he has Harry’s attention.

“Why you said tha’?!” he whisper shouts. “Why you said we wanna go?”

First, Harry claws his arm free. Then, makes a beckoning sign concealed between the two of them. He’s not laughing, as it’d be expected from somebody pulling a prank, so Zayn obliges.

“What if it’s a Card?” he asks. “Don’t you have to check it out?”

Sounds reasonable, yeah. Except for the part where they search for earthbound spirits around the lake. In the evening. Not a single reasonable thing about that, Zayn reckons.

“Wha’ if it’s not?!” he retorts in the same hushed tone. Just to be safe, he glances around for anyone that might approach them. “I _don’t_ fuck with the dead, Haz.”

“We’re already going,” Harry says with finality, sitting up again. “I’ll be there with ya. Don’t worry.”

Zayn blows a tired raspberry. “That’s _exactly_ wha’ worries me.”

#

Evening draws close by the time they meet near school’s courtyard statue. Chas is already there, accompanied by a boy of bleached hair. He’s a familiar face, though neither Harry or Zayn can tell from where. Although he wears the same uniform, they’re sure they don’t share any classes.

“Zayn and Harry, I suppose.”

“Harry and Zayn, actually,” Harry corrects, pointing to himself, then to Zayn. “You’re... Niall?”

The lad’s face lights up, rivalling the sun. They haven’t met before, in the proper sense, but then this boy is hugging everyone and laughing it off. If that’s not awkward, that’s only because it’s all too sudden (and quick) for a proper reaction.

Chas shows her mate off with a flourish of her hand. “Niall Horan. The most beautiful, and most Irish mind I know.”

“She means you’re the only one listening to her bollocks.” Harry leans closer to him. “Careful, mate.”

But Niall roars with laughter, ignoring Chas pinching Harry’s arm. Even after he stops, he just beams—harder than before—at them. His crooked teeth has a distinct charm, though it might comes down to his personality. Or as much as Zayn can get from someone for a few minutes.

“Just ‘Niall’ is fine,” he says, still recovering from his fit of laughter.

They don’t dwell—if they ever have—on formalities for too long, either way. It’s a good walk till Ladywood Lake, and it’s double that for Zayn, who lives in the opposite direction. So, because he _isn’t_ concerned about ghosts or anything otherworldly, he suggests they leave already.

The closer they get to the lake, the tighter Zayn clings to Harry’s arm. The setting sun and orange-tinted sky demand attention, but that’s hard to do in a ghost hunt, he supposes. And if he’s beholding the sunset, how will he know when to flee?

“Nothing here. We can go back,” he whispers, trying to drag Harry in the opposite direction. “I’m serious. There’s _really_ nothing.”

Harry glances around. “Maybe we have to wait? Till it’s dark and all?”

Zayn has feared somebody would come to this conclusion. He’d also hoped it wouldn’t be Harry. Granted, he should’ve known better: today has been a day for ‘Dark Harry’ and his backstabbing tendencies.

On the bright side, they don’t have to wait long. Soon the sky darkens, and a single firefly flies past them. It zooms into the middle of the lake, and when it does, it expands with a sudden flash.

They all sprint out of the woods, screaming and not looking back. Harry’s eyes are wide as plates, and just not wider than Zayn’s. Chas has a maniacal grin, but that’s just her natural reaction for everything. Niall shows no sign of distress, but a rather prominent pout.

“On ‘one’, everyone says what they saw,” Chas instructs them, barely masking her glee as she prepares for a countdown. “Three... two... one!”

“A lad carrying his head!”  
“Zombie in chains!”  
“Pizza!”  
“An old lady smiling!”

One of these is _clearly_ different.

Chas stares at Harry and Zayn. Both shake their heads, and by exclusion it’s easy to deduce who said what.

“Pizza?” She places a hand to her hip, shifting her weight to the same leg. “Why would a ghost be a pizza?”

Niall shrugs so fast, it seems no more voluntary than a muscle spasm.

“How would I know?” He pats his stomach. “Made me hungrier, though.”

“I guess we’re calling off this investigation,” Chas laments, to which Zayn pumps a covert, small fist on his side. “We’ll come back after tomorrow,” she adds, crushing his hopes as quickly as she’s built them.

“I’m taking you home,” Harry whispers, and Zayn sighs in relief. “We need to talk about some _stuff_.”

Zayn agrees, of course. There’s little he wouldn’t accept to leave. He thinks nothing of Harry ringing home, and even less when a black Cadillac arrives for them. Four tall ladies seemingly out of a MIB—rather, _WIB_ ―film emerge and let them climb aboard.

“To Zaynie’s house, Adelaide,” Harry tells the lady behind the steering wheel, once the partition rolls down. “If Mum’s done with her meetings, tell her I’ll be a bit late.”

Sometimes, Zayn forgets Harry’s family is actually rich. This, however, isn’t one of those times.

#

“I only have three questions: why?”

Harry takes his camcorder off his right eye. “That’s one question, though?”

Rolling his eyes, Zayn points to Kero atop his head, to himself, then draws a wide arc above their heads with his staff.

“Oh, you mean the production?” The smile is back on Harry’s face, as well as his camera. “It’s our tradition, innit? And the radio is for communication, of course.”

Yeah, tradition that should have been a one-time thing. Zayn gets that it’s an opportunity to try flashy costumes and prototypes for the Styles Industries. He gets it. He also appreciates company in potential life-risking escapades, though he’d prefer not to risk his best mate’s life.

In case he needs to wring out said best mate’s neck later. And he is a (literal) step away from conking Harry in the head, when Kero brings up their goal.

“Everyone has seen different stuff,” it says, coming to float in Zayn’s sight. “It could easily be a Clow Card. Maybe more than one.”

Zayn tightens his grip on his staff. “I really hope it is.”

Nothing has changed since their last visit. The woods remain empty and lighting is still dim, barely of any comfort. Leaves ruffle with a strong breeze from time to time, a reminder of their intrusion at an unusual time. Everything here is typical of a park at night, except for their very group.

By the lake, they play the waiting game. Many more minutes than Zayn recalls from their first try. Or maybe it’s just what his body wants him to believe, because his heart hasn’t stopped banging on his ribs for a while.

“I sense a Clow Card,” Kero whispers. “It’s coming.”

A tiny blue light slowly drifts towards them in the air from the opposite side of the lake. Like earlier, it stops at its centre, and... waits. It bobs in the air, never leaving it’s position. Well, if it’s not a ghost, then Zayn can do something. What’s sentient magic compared to an earthbound spirit, right?

“Fly!” He hops onto his staff and slowly glides towards the light. It hasn’t tried to attack him before, so might as well not try it now. “Who are you?”

A sudden flash engulfs Zayn and the lake in white light.

#

“Zed! What’s happening there? Zed!”

Harry stares at his radio. The red light is blinking. It shouldn’t be blinking. He should also hear Zayn from this distance. But he doesn’t. Instead, he gets silence— just a pink, lifeless slab of plastic.

“I can’t go there!” Kero repeatedly pounds its tiny fists against the dome of light. “Why there’s a barrier here?!”

No visual, no audio, _nothing_. They can’t even confirm Zayn is still in there, simply because they don’t know what’s inside. As far as sight and hearing are concerned, there’s only bright light and howling wind.

_“She’s... he—”_

Harry readily plasters the radio against his ear. “Zayn! Who’s there with you?”

_“Sh— h’re... Daadi’s here.”_

Kero scratches its head. “Who now?”

“His nan.” Harry swallows hard, trying to slow down his breathing. He licks his lips, purses them, then continues in a careful tone. “Zed... Come back to me. _Now_.”

“His grandmother?” Kero blinks its beady eyes. “She’s swimming here?”

Harry raises his eyes to Kero, again swallowing hard. Perhaps harder than before.

“She died years ago.”

#

Zayn has no doubt. He hasn’t seen her in years, but there’s no mistaking it. The long grey hair plaited and the lines of wisdom by her eyes and mouth. That very smile he sometimes has trouble remembering, and fears one day won’t be able to.

“ _Daadi_?”

Although she stares at him, no answer comes. It would be hard to know she’s heard him, if not for her widening smile.

“Wha’ you’re doing here?”

Again, no answer. She does offer her open palm to him, tilting her head sideways.

“Want me go with ya?” He glances at her hand, then back at her face. “Where?”

They’ve come to a deadlock. She doesn’t retract her offer, nor does Zayn move to accept it. Or reject, for that matter. He still doesn’t know what she’s doing in the woods. Maybe she’ll talk once he follows her?

“I can’t go.” He shakes his head. “You shouldn’t even be here!”

Then, she begins to back away. Sinking into the water as slowly as she reels backwards. Zayn tries to reach her, but only grasps air. He tries a second time, again coming empty-handed. There’s a third attempt, too.

By his fourth try, water replaces all the air around him, and darkness swallows him whole.

#

“Daadi! No!”

Zayn jolts upwards, hand still grasping air instead of a hand. His heart is ready to tear his chest open, for it hammers his ribcage with all its might. He’s no longer in the lake, so that’s a plus in his eyes. It’s just... where is he, exactly?

Well, a bedroom for sure. This much he can tell from the bed he’s in, as well as band posters on the walls. He’d go even farther: a boy’s bedroom. Not his, nor his brother’s, or even Harry’s, though. And he’s a step away from climbing down the window and away from his kidnapper, when the doorknob turns.

“Ah, you’re awake, love!”

Zayn pulls the blanket to his chest. “ _Loueh!_ ”

Louis smiles, closing the door with a butt bump. On his hands, a wooden tray exudes a delicious aroma Zayn recognises as eggs. Whether scrambled, boiled or an omelette, it’s surely eggs and there’s also cheese somewhere in there. Cheese rolls, maybe?

Louis settles the tray over Zayn’s legs, its supports unfolding like a beach chair would. “Don’t worry; your brother changed your clothes.”

If it’s even possible, Zayn further shrinks into the mattress. The sinapses aren’t made till he hears it from Louis. One, his brother and Louis have seen him in one of Harry’s designs. Two, he’s never going to live this one. Basil will blackmail into doing his chores for a year. Even worse, now Louis thinks he’s some weird cosplayer.

Is there a Clow Card that erase memories? If so, where can he find it?

He pulls the covers up to his chin. “You... saw that?”

Louis nods, holding out a fork till Zayn accepts. “I didn’t know you cosplay,” he says, nonchalantly as ever, pouring some tea in a white mug. “Looked very professional, too!”

“It’s a dress, though.”

“A _cute_ dress,” Louis corrects. He sets the mug back on the tray, gently ruffling Zayn’s hair. “If it makes you feel and look cute, that’s what matters.”

Something Zayn has Harry to thank for, but intuition advises him against it. Harry’s creativity is already wild _without_ incentive. He fears what his friend would craft with actual, express approval.

Though, to be honest, he doesn’t mind it. Mostly. It’s just that he hadn’t expected being seen in one of Harry’s creations. Not by his brother, and especially not by Louis.

But if Louis thinks he looks cute, that’s fine with him.

Whilst Zayn eats, he listens to a narrative of everything up to now. From Louis following an odd firefly into the woods to sharply-dressed women giving them a lift. Harry’s bodyguards, that’s for sure.

It’s hard to tell if it’s deliberate—maybe Louis just doesn’t know—but he doesn’t bring up anything _unusual_. He’d found an unconscious Zayn sinking in the middle of the lake, no boats around, and thought nothing of it. And yeah, Basil often dubs Louis the happy-go-lucky kind, but this a bit _too much_.

“You don’t wanna know wha’ I was doing there?” Zayn asks after his last sip. He obviously can’t go with ‘do you think I’m a magic user’ or similar. “I mean, I _was_ in the woods at night.”

“Do you wanna tell me?” Louis picks the tray up, pauses, then retorts in an even softer tone, “If you don’t—or _can’t_ —I’d just be forcing you into lying. No point in that, aye?”

Zayn’s stomach does a somersault. Scrap that: it does an entire gold medal-worthy gymnastics routine. Were it Basil instead of Louis, he’d have to leap through imaginary, fiery hoops to come up with something _half_ reasonable. (That his brother wouldn’t buy into, any way.)

“I... saw _Daadi_.”

“Your nan?” Louis asks, and his voice is as much devoid of judgement as before. “Basil told me she’s passed away.”

From here on, it’s easier to stare at his own fingers, Zayn decides. He throws a nod here and there, and almost murmurs, but he tells what happened. As much as he can, which obviously excludes any mentions of magic.

“Was it really her, though?” Louis stands up, earning himself a puzzled look. He waits for no confirmation, and heads to the door. “I don’t believe she’d ever put her grandchildren in danger.”

With this, he smiles and leaves Zayn to his own thoughts, promising to call Basil a bit later.

#

The talk with Louis stays with Zayn throughout the next day. Basil hasn’t told their parents about the incident, nor brought the subject up again. Chances are that’s also Louis’ doing, as if Zayn cannot be thankful for all his help already.

Luck seems to favours him, too. Niall has some family matters to attend to, and Chas deflates the moment she hears Harry has to meet his mum. Everything is set. Another opportunity like this won’t show up twice, and so Zayn must seize it.

“I thought you were seeing your mum.”

“ _Earlier_. That’s how I got those,” Harry replies, camera panning from Zayn’s feet to face. “I’ve only had to put my touch to them.”

Yeah, Zayn has wondered about these golden headphones he has on. If its futuristic design doesn’t distinguish it from regular ware, the bright colour does. It compliments his yellow dress—and metallic shoulder plates—in a way only a customised piece would.

“I’m still not sure about this.” Kero hovers in front of Zayn’s face. “This is dangerous, Zayn.”

This reversal would be funny in any other circumstances. Usually, Zayn would point out he’s too young for this, too young to risk his life against supernatural beings. Kero would, in turn, laugh it off and pull some faux wisdom about becoming an adult. Not tonight. And it crushes Zayn’s heart to see the little guardian so forlorn, despite its fashionable golden ear cuff.

“I’m not gonna die, all right?” He scratches Kero’s head with his forefinger till downcast, beady eyes meet his. “Clow Card, Daadi’s spirit— I can’t just do nothing. And I’ll need your help.”

Kero’s features light up with a tentative, shy smile. “I’ll protect you this time!”

And this time it’ll be different, because they’re acting differently. Zayn fishes a card from his pocket holding it to his forehead, before throwing it upwards. _Lend me your powers, please._

“Grant me foothold on this placid surface.” He twirls his staff, switching hands behind his back, before swinging it down on the card. “Watery!”

A water mermaid comes forth, wrapping him in a giant bubble. Zayn attempts a first step onto the water, and attesting his buoyancy, threads a good metre into the lake.

_“Can you hear me in that thing?”_

Zayn makes an ‘ok’ sign. “As loud as you are,” he replies, giggling at Harry’s distorted face.

 _“This way ye won’t sink,”_ Kero’s voice rings in his ear. _“Be careful, Zayn.”_

This path feels too familiar by now. The distance Zayn covers on foot stretches longer than he remembers it. He supposes that’s true since he’s wingless tonight, but may also be the eerie silence to fill his bubble.

It’s here. Something he cannot see, yet can tell it closes in on him even with his eyes closed. A flash momentarily blinds him, and then there she is. Clothes and hair just like he recalls them, watching him with an affable smile.

“Daadi? Is tha’ you?”

Despite her smile, his grandmother doesn’t acknowledge his question or himself. She simply floats backwards, putting more distance between them.

“No, wait!”

_“Zayn, don’t! Don’t follow her! Don’t—”_

It’s fast and goes mostly unnoticed by Zayn, but Kero collides with an invisible wall. High voltage chucks it straight into Harry’s arms. Its entire small body is numb to the point even flapping a single wing would be impossible.

But the harder Zayn chases his grandmother, the sluggier his body becomes. It’s hard to keep himself conscious. His eyelids weigh down more and more, dragging him down like anvils shackled to his ankles. He keeps calling his nan, but she doesn’t react; just smiles whilst he sinks to his demise.

_“Was it really her, though? I don’t believe she’d ever put her grandchildren in danger.”_

“Watery!” he commands. A sudden stream pushes him afloat again, his bubble reshaping into a perfect cube. “You’re not Daadi. Who are you?”

Her smile falters for the first time. What Zayn has seen as the reflection of his nan, now flashes like a pattern in a kaleidoscope. Height and shape remain the same, but there’s no depth, like an image.

 _“It’s a... Clow Card.”_ Kero's words come up slurred on his radio. _“Don’t... it flee...”_

“Return to the humble guise that you’re meant to be in!” Zayn lifts his staff over the former shape of his grandmother. “Clow Card!”

A glowing card drops to Zayn’s hand, revealing the nature of his foe. It’s the same as the cards in his possession, but unlike the others, there’s no animal or humanoid depicted on it. Instead, the centre of the card is illustrated with the same mosaic-like pattern Zayn has just seen.

“The Illusion,” he reads, treading the water back to his friends. Once back to the shore, Watery, too, returns to a card. “Here says it’s the Illusion card... I don’t get it?”

“A few cards are special; not offensive, nor defensive,” Kero explains. “Yeah, Clow was a strange fella.”

Harry lowers his camera. “But why Zed’s nan specifically?”

“Illusion shows ye what yer heart wants to see,” it replies. “We all saw his grandmother ‘cos we _expected_ the lady on that pic he showed us.”

There seems to be some logic, as Basil has reminded Zayn it’d have been her birthday this week. It only seems apt that she’d be in his mind, albeit on a subconscious level.

“Explains Niall and his pizza, then.” He exhales, his staff shrinking back to a key. “Haven’t met a hungrier lad.”

“Illusions aren’t real... right?” Harry puts his camera to his face again. He pans his lens over the once again placid lake. No more signs of supernatural activity. “That wall got you like a real one.”

Kero folds its legs and arms, floating away in thought. It’s easier to tell it’s pondering a logical explanation, because its tail always slithers around whenever it thinks too hard. Eventually it slams its tiny fist on its tiny open paw.

“Magic manifests in various ways,” it says, floating to Zayn and patting his forehead. “I’d say Zayn’s feelings about seeing his nan were that strong.”

Zayn glances at the Illusion card, then hugs it to his chest. As much as he’d love to see his nan again, he’s also at peace with not seeing her. It means she’s somewhere else— _better_ —and that she isn’t earthbound, wandering around such a lonely place.

“Let’s go home, lads,” he says, wiping at his eye. _I’m glad you’re fine._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Four boys are already here. I wonder who's still missing... 😉
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> For inquiries on prompts and AUs, reach me @[zeskiyo](https://zeskiyo.tumblr.com/) on tumblr, or @[zeskiverse](https://twitter.com/zeskiverse) on twitter.


	4. Zayn's Rival Appears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zayn’s new classmate has a special interest in him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Accompanying [moodboard](https://zeskiyo.tumblr.com/post/189887651345/catch-you-catch-me-by-zeski-language-english).

**IV**

Zayn shrieks at the impact of lightning against his watery shield. It’s a pleasant surprise that Kero’s theory has worked, but it still doesn’t prepare him for Thunder’s vicious attacks. He pictures it as if being mauled by a bear. Only that this bear is twice as scary and made of lightning.

Were Watery to conduct electricity in any way, Zayn would be a toasted Card Captor now.

 _“Force it into beast form!”_ Kero yells in his ear among a lot of noise. _“Ye can’t capture it as lighting!”_

Yeah, but... how? Because Zayn has already used Windy to no effect, and he's currently using Watery as a shield. All that's left is Woody, and that one can't contain anything shapeless.

He'll need Watery for attack, that's for sure. Which also means ditching his only defence. And no offence to Harry’s fashion choices, but this rubber dress won't insulate _anything,_ if burnt to a crisp. The kitty ears and tail are also questionable at best, though that Zayn can overlook in the name of safety.

"Watery!”

Zayn’s bubble attempts to surround the target, and whilst it does, he takes off on Fly. Either using cards in succession don't require as much as magic, or he's finally grown used to it.

 _Follow me!_ Thunder obliges, sizzling across the sky in a frenzy chase. Zayn abuses on evasive manoeuvres, thankful that Thunder _doesn't_ move at lighting speed and that flying is no longer an issue for him.

They play this mortal game of chase over the school, and into the gym. Shattered glass rain on Zayn, as he soars in. He lands on the far side of the pool, cards of choice already in his grasp.

“Question: can I use two cards at once?”

There's a brief pause before Kero comes on his earpiece. _“As long it's not two of the six elements, I suppose yer fine.”_

Zayn exhaled in relief. Things would get ugly, were Kero’s answer any different. To be honest, he has no idea it'll work. But again, when has it been otherwise?

“Help me out here!” He throws the cards in the air, twirling his staff around him. “Cards created by Clow, fill this room and become siege for my pursuer. Rain! Watery!”

His staff hits both cards, two distinct shades of blue pouring forth. From the darker blue, Watery, the young mermaid with her usual stony expression. From the lighter blue, however, comes a giggling toddler in Pierrot-like hat and seated atop a fluffy cloud.

A thunderbolt gets through one of the many broken windows, signalling the start of the plan. Rain’s cloud spread across the gym, the ceiling disappearing behind its grey mantle. Almost immediately the downpour starts, and in contact with water, Thunder roars and tries to flee, but then finds itself trapped in the rain that Watery so freely controls.

Harry and Kero barge in just as Watery dunks Thunder into the pool. Then, a drenched, sizzling bear-like beast stumbles its way out. Zayn has to fight a pang of guilt for abusing an animal, magical or not.

“Return to the humble guise that you’re meant to be in!” He raises his staff. “Clow Card!”

Once the vortex fades, a glowing card flies into his grip. Depicted on it, a cross of a bear and a tiger of bristly appearance roars. Its lore, as expected, reads _The Thunder_. Watery and Rain return to their card form, they, too, flying into his grip.

“Yer powers are getting stronger,” Kero beams, nodding to himself. Somehow, it’s gotten better—or worse, from Zayn’s point of view—at disregarding the risk these feats involve. “Didn’t expect less from me pupil!”

Zayn flicks the little cat bell around its neck. “Aren’t we chuffed tonight, huh?”

“I have no complaints... for the most part.” Harry pats his camcorder. “You look cute and I got my footage.”

Watching Kero laugh like a drunk lumberjack (and Harry record it), Zayn debates whether there’s still time to find a new support team.

#

_I’ve been here before._

The scene is all too familiar. Clow Cards rain down on a windy night near the Watkin’s Tower. Kero is there, too. Everything is like Zayn’s dream before opening the Book of Clow, except that he’s not there— somebody else stands beside Kero. Whoever it is, they hold a sword and have their face obscured by a shaggy fringe.

_“Zayn! Wake up!”_

A concerned Kero comes into focus. Zayn yawns and stretches his limbs till his body spasms like a mild seizure.

“That dream again...”

“Talking in yer sleep isn’t good,” Kero says, pressing a tiny paw to his forehead. “Feeling poorly?”

Confused, maybe, but otherwise okay. He hardly gets sick. And when it happens, he’s dead to the world.

“Just a bit of a weird dream.” He stretches again, letting out another yawn. “With you and the cards.”

Kero makes a pensive face—oddly expressive for its teddy bear looks—folding its stubby arms. And it makes Zayn sweat, because its careful tone can’t mean good.

“Be careful today, okay?” it finally says, landing on Zayn’s lap. “Yer magic is getting stronger. It could be another foretelling dream.”

Questions will wait for later, as Basil knock to his door. If Zayn sits around for another couple of minutes, he’ll be late. (It’s not as if he won’t see Kero again, so he can last a day with unsated curiosity.)

#

“Somebody’s proper chuffed today!” Harry beams, leaning in to whisper the next part. “Was it him?”

Zayn bites down a smile, nodding profusely. From his front pocket, he produces a small candy in cream-coloured wrapper. One he almost feels bad about eating, but only because he’d like to keep it forever. Maybe wax or varnish coat it as a memento.

“Lou gave me this,” he confirms. For some reason, Louis _always_ has food on him. “He’s a real-life prince!”

There’s only so much time to gush before classes start. Once the roll call is finished, they’re introduced to a new classmate. Whilst transfer students aren’t unusual, someone at the end of the trimester is odd.

“This is Liam Payne,” Mr. Terada says, gesturing to a boy of moppy, curly hair and the thickest eyebrows Zayn has ever seen on another kid. “Starting today, he’ll be your classmate.”

Payne’s face resembles a puppy, Zayn decides. No, he’s not going to pet Payne. But he can’t deny the friendliness in the boy’s bashful smile. The very smile to vanish the moment their eyes lock.

“Is he... he’s looking this way, isn’t he?” Harry whispers, and thank goodness Zayn’s not hallucinating. “Y’know him?”

“No!” Zayn whispers back, much more urgent than his friend. “Why would I—”

And maybe Zayn really doesn’t know that boy, but Payne clearly knows him. Either that, or it’s a severe case of mistaken identity. Only one thing is clear, and that’s Payne’s intense gaze on him.

“Hi?” Zayn croaks out, forcing a rapidly faltering, strained smile. _What’s his problem!?_

“Go on. Take a seat.” Harry smiles, pointing to the vacant seat right behind Zayn. “Nice to meet you, Payne. I’m Styles.”

However, Zayn soon finds out it’s not much better to have Payne behind him than being face-to-face. Because, that gaze lingers on him. Persistent, icy gaze on his back.

And it goes for as long as Mr. Terada talks, really. By the time class ends, most of Zayn’s energy has gone into worrying about imaginary holes bored into his skull. Imaginary, because he assumes Harry and Devine would tell him somebody hollowed his head.

“Can we talk, Malik?”

Zayn’s back grow stiff under the palm on his shoulder. Maybe more for the voice—which he doesn’t recognise—than for the sudden contact.

“...S-Sure!”

“Not here, though.” Payne leans in closer. “After school, near that giant penguin in the park.”

Harry waits just long enough for Payne to be out of earshot. Then, he’s doubling over, all frantic whispers and hands.

“Someone fancies a snog.”

“Wha’?!” Zayn hasn’t intended for it to come out this high-pitched, but he can’t help it. “Are you barmy? I don’t like him. I just _met_ him!”

Harry shrugs. “We all know what happens when two people sit on a swing, Zed. It’s science.”

“Wha’ are ya? Twelve?”

“ _Almost_ Fourteen,” Harry corrects, puffing his chest out.

Zayn sighs. “Whatever, Haz.”

The rest of the day goes the same: Zayn tries his best to block out Payne's gaze and Harry’s ‘reminder’ that Papa Malik forbids boyfriends till he’s fourteen. It’s hard to choose which one is worse, though Payne leans more to ‘disturbing’ than ‘annoying’, unlike Harry.

“I’m going ahead,” Payne says, picking his bag up. He throws Devine a curt nod before facing Zayn again. “Don’t be late.”

As soon as Payne turns round, Harry puckers his lips, like a bloody yellow tang.

“See ya tomorrow, bumface,” Zayn grunts. Perhaps too loud, because Payne turns back, glaring at him. “It wasn’t— I was talking to him! To Harry!”

Of course, Harry is now too entertained with his bag, rummaging through it, like none of this concerns him. _The curly tosser._

“By the giant penguin.” Payne readjusts his bag with a shrug, pulling down on its straps. “Don’t forget.”

“I hate you,” Zayn whispers, and this time ensures that he says it directly to Harry’s ear. “Gonna pay for this, _Styles_. Just wait!”

Because luck isn’t on Zayn’s side, Basil and Louis wait for him by the gate. Of course, it’d happen today. The three of them rarely go home together, and usually it’s just him and Harry. Sometimes, a few classmates here and there, but mainly him and his _alleged_ best mate.

But now Basil is here, and so is Louis. Their kindness has to be turned down, and Zayn needs a good excuse for it. Like it’s been with Harry, saying he’s meeting a stranger in the park won’t go too well.

And knowing Basil, he’ll _demand_ that Payne stays away from Zayn.

“I’m borrowing him today, lads!”

Zayn’s shoulders sag in relief, as he watches Harry jogging to them. He’s never been happier to be reassured of their friendship. Basil won’t refuse a request from Harry. Nobody ever does.

“I hope it’s not a problem,” Harry adds, placing a hand on Zayn’s shoulder. “It’ll be quick.”

To Zayn’s relief, Louis nods when Basil glances at him for help. Of course, he would. It’s one of the things that make Louis amazing: he’s understanding and patient. Unlike a _certain_ older brother.

“Don’t take too long.” Basil warns them. “I’ll tell dad you’re getting home _a bit_ later.”

A (not so) small part of Zayn suspects Harry has ulterior motives. It doesn’t change the fact that he’s been saved, though. For now, he’ll let it slide. He’s more curious about what Payne wants from him. Apologise for the death glares and mistaking him for someone else, maybe?

Only one way to find out.

#

“I’m here,” Zayn says, fiddling with his tie. “Wha’ you wanted to talk to me?”

Silent, Payne turns round. Against his chest, he carries an 8-pointed wooden board. Slowly, he holds it out, horizontally, at hip height. A golden octagram and coloured arrows come into view. At the centre, the yin-yang symbol sets in a golden sun.

“The Imperial king of the gods presides over all directions,” Payne recites, closing his eyes. Two tiny light orbs start orbiting on the board. “Metal, wood, water, fire, earth, thunder, wind, lighting.”

The two orbs continue to zip across the board, in circles, then slow down, coming to align. Is that a Ouija board? If so, Zayn is out of here. He’s not one for this supernatural stuff, and he much prefers leaving the deceased in peace.

Payne suddenly opens his eyes, shouting, “Whirling blade of lightning heed my call!”

A half-sphere of light blossoms on the board. The two orbs aligns and from their formation a beam shoots straight into Zayn’s chest. Warm like a sunbeam focused magnifying glass, though it doesn’t burn. It also doesn’t disappears upon Zayn stumbling backwards to the ground. Only when Payne swats his board away, does this thread of light breaks off.

“You have Clow cards on you.” Payne says, brown furrowing. “Hand them over.”

And okay, Zayn has no idea what’s happening. Aside from the fact he has grass under his palms and a sore bum, at least.

“I’m not giving you anything,” he retorts, hand to his pocket. “Kero needs them to get stronger.”

The mention of Kero’s name visibly rings a bell. Impossible as it seems, Payne’s brow furrows even further. His gaze goes from Zayn to the ground, his eyes doing a back and forth, almost as if reading across invisible pages.

“Keroberos rules over fire, earth and light.” He takes a step forwards. “You _don’t_ have any of them?”

“...Only wind and water.”

Zayn doesn’t know why his voice suddenly gets smaller, but it does. He can feel himself shrink under Payne's piercing gaze. He knows when he’s being judged, and this is clearly it. If he’s not sure at first, he certainly is when Payne's surprised he hasn’t captured all cards already.

“I’m sorry, but I’m taking them,” Payne insists, taking a step closer. “It’s not personal.”

Whether coincidence or providence, help comes. Specifically, Basil dropping from a tree. He drops between the two of them, prompting Payne to leap backwards into fighting instance. Kung fu, maybe?

“What you think you’re doing?” Basil also assumes fighting instance, sizing Payne up. He casts Zayn a scrutinising look over his shoulder. “You all right, Gremlin?”

Harry rushes in to help Zayn up, as does Niall. How they got here, Zayn doesn’t know. But despite their advantage in numbers, Payne still doesn’t back down. There’s a resolve ignited in his eyes up that doesn’t dull before Basil’s full height. If anything, it burns brighter, fiercer—

“Finally found you lot!”

The voice gets everyone’s attention. Louis rushes in, a paper bag tight in his grip. Zayn can’t contain the sudden urge to grin his widest.

“One, two, three, four”—Louis turns to Payne—“and five. I have just enough for all of us!” he beams, holding his open bag. “Want some, mate?”

Payne's eyes grow wider, and his ears redden. He peers into the bag, and then at Louis’ face, a few times. _Several_ times, as he does it in rapid succession, till he stumbles backwards and falls face first into the sand. Then, he picks his bag up and flees.

Louis turns to Basil. “Maybe... he wasn’t hungry?”

“I’ll take his share!” Niall volunteers, arm high in the air. He then leans closer to Zayn, “Don’t know what that was about, but— Was your brother really about to throw fisticuffs with a kid?”

There’s not much to do besides tittering, Zayn supposes. One, he can’t say his brother _wouldn’t_ fight someone younger. Two, he doesn’t know how to tell Niall that he’s also ‘a kid’.

#

The next afternoon, Zayn accompanies Chas to a new gift shop. Since it's not a supernatural expedition, refusing it becomes even harder. Also, after whatever the hell happened with that Payne lad yesterday, he needs a good distraction. Today has been slightly less stressful because Devine has befriended Payne, in an unexpected turn of events.

Unexpected, because Zayn hadn’t deemed _Mr. I’ll-mug-ya-and-rob-your-cards_ able to befriend anyone with that approach. Plus, he’s more concerned about suspicions of Payne being related to Clow, since he owns that board compass.

_“Yeah, Clow did create a Clow Compass. If that boy has it, I can only think it’s an heirloom.”_

Zayn munches on the inside of his cheek. _If that yin-yang makes it eastern magic, why does he—_

Cha’s voice interrupts Zayn’s thoughts.

“You know there's nothing to eat there, right?”

Niall shrugs. “I'm not hungry _all_ the time.”

“ _Aren't_ you, though?” she retorts, and her tone treads a thin line between disbelief and accusation.

“Not right now, no.”

Although not far from school, the shop is a detour from Zayn’s usual route. The same can't be said for Niall and Chas, but it explains how she's learnt of it. As for Anulika, she enters crow mode whenever somebody mentions accessories. That’s it. That’s her sole reason for tagging along.

Spotting it isn't hard: there’s a bustling store across the street. Even from the outside it looks too crowded for Zayn’s liking. He doubts it'll deter Chas, so he takes a deep breath and braces himself. He's promised her half an hour of his day, after all.

“Welcome to Water Lily! Need any help?”

The familiar voice catches Zayn’s attention. He blinks, trying to make his vision clearer, but no avail: Basil stands there, handing out pamphlets in a baby pink shirt and dark green apron.

“Yo, Zayn’s bro!” Niall greets him. “What’s the craig?”

Basil scrutinises their faces, then glances behind them. He gives each a pamphlet, “No one else with you lot today?”

“If you mean Harry, he had to meet his mum,” Chas replies.

“Not Styles.” Basil’s eyes narrow. “I mean Wood Tiger brows.”

Niall promptly bursts into a cackle, whilst it takes Zayn a moment to connect caterpillars, eyebrows and a face.

“You mean Payne?” he asks, earning himself a scoff in response. “We're not exactly mates, in case you didn't notice.”

Anulika and Chas exchange a puzzled look that Zayn doesn’t bother easing up. The less they talk about yesterday, the better. And since Niall doesn’t bring up Basil almost got into a brawl with Payne, it seems appropriate to let the subject die.

“Good,” Basil replies sternly, switching to an uncharacteristic, cheerful tone. “Enjoy your time at White Lily!”

Zayn attributes the sudden change to a group of big girls approaching his brother. No matter. He's more surprised to find out his brother working half expedient here. Plus, he’s too busy ignoring Chas and Anulika’s (rightful) questions about Payne.

Inside the shop, another polite voice welcome them. This time, a tall woman of long, dark hair. She dresses differently from Basil and the other girls, and immediately leads Zayn and his group to her glass counter.

“Malik’s mates get 10% off,” she chirps, displaying her wares. That's when Zayn realises they're talking over a collection of brooches. “Go on. Don't be shy.”

Chas reaches for Anulika and both hop like jumping beans. “Really?!”

“Uh, he's my brother, actually,” Zayn clarifies.

The lady nods. “Okay... let's make it 20%, then.”

She laughs at Zayn’s attempts of explaining that's _not_ what he meant, but somehow it doesn't seem ill-hearted. Instead, she introduces herself as _“White Lily’s proud owner”_ and Wembley’s new resident, Shefali.

“I'll tell Hannah about our convo.” She points to a round-faced girl a bit farther. “If you can't purchase it today, just come back tomorrow.”

“Beautiful and generous. That's what I aspire to be,” Chas laments, letting out a dreamy sigh.

Zayn can't say she's wrong. Shefali’s charm works just as well on her other customers. The girls working under her also seem of the same opinion: they eye her with similar admiration. It's a pity Basil only hands out pamphlets, because he could learn a lot from this sophisticated lady. And maybe ditch the _‘gremlin’_ thing.

Whatever. Back to window shopping.

The brooches don’t really catch Zayn’s eye, so he leaves Niall and Chas to try some on. Anulika... well, she must still be around, lost in the crowd of avid ladies. He’ll look for something else. Maybe he can find something for Louis? A casual gift, not too obvious, but that will also remind Louis of him.

A brooch won’t do, that’s for sure. (Does Louis even wear those?) He sees glass figurines, like elephants and cows. But again, is Louis a cow person? And how can he find out without: one, making a fool of himself, and two, asking for his brother’s help. (The prospect of owing Basil one makes him consider asking Louis in person, honestly.)

“Two weeks of his chores,” he mumbles to himself, guessing the toll. He can check it right now, but then Basil is working, and he doesn't want to disturb—

Zayn glances over his shoulder. He can always tell when he’s being watched. Not that anyone around seem to particularly pay attention to him.

No one catches his eye, and he's returning to the tiny cows, when he sees a girl’s shadow reach for a shelf. Nothing uncommon in a shop, except that the owner of the shadow has both arms down, talking to her friend.

Zayn squeezes his eyes to make sure he's seeing it. Yeah, the shape is still there, stretching till it links to the shadow of the shelf.

“Oi! It's gonna fa—”

The shelf falls off before Zayn can reach the girls. It only misses them because a lad shields them with his body, taking the blow to his back. Any porcelain figurines on the shelf become shards on the floor.

Shefali rushes to them, and only then Zayn realises it's Basil with a gash across the back. She asks another shop assistant for help, someone Zayn doesn't even register their face. He's busy piecing together his brother's murder attempt by a _shadow_.

“That’s a Clow card.”

Startled by the voice, Zayn drops a cow. He tries to break its fall, but a third hand beats him.

“Payne!”

“I can't sense it any more, though. It's hiding again.” Payne holds out the cow, dropping it on Zayn’s hand. “Better do something before something serious happens.”

Payne exchanges glares with Basil, then leaves the Water Lily. Despite his attitude problem, his senses are sharp. As much as Zayn hates it, Payne’s skills come off as legitimate.

#

“You can’t be seriously thinking of using Windy!” Payne snarls. “Haven’t you learnt anything?!”

Zayn can’t help flinching, though he recovers the next instant, fuelled by a fire hadn’t been here a moment ago. Or maybe it has, but it’s grown stronger with every little snide.

Payne shouldn’t even be here. What if he has that compass board of his? He’s not tasked with collecting the cards, no matter how entitled he acts. Zayn, on the other hand, is only here to fulfil his promise to Kero. He can’t allow that card can injure more people, and that’s why he’s chased it to the park.

Payne’s martial arts attire points otherwise, as does his patronising tone for the past five minutes.

“You—”

Kero flies in between them, its sudden appearance startling both. As unannounced as its appearance, is a vicious bite to Payne's forefinger.

“Zayn’s doing his best, ye puppy brat!” Kero roars, once Payne finally shakes it off. “He’s not trained and _I_ chose him! I won’t let ye insult him again.”

It’s there again. That cold stare that accuse without any words. Zayn might as well have microwaved a hamster to earn such icy eyes. They’re a contradiction to the warm colour of Payne's irises.

“You chose—” Payne’s eyes grow wider. “You're telling me you're Kerberos?! The golden-eyed beast of the seal?!”

Kero huffs. “Seems that even a brat knows of my fame.”

Payne glances at Zayn. Probably for confirmation, to which Zayn offers a timid nod.

“...This flying hamster, really?”

Yeah, Zayn is sure Payne can only blame himself for a second bite. His problem; not Zayn’s. Granted, he seems to be Zayn’s _only_ problem these days, so there's that, too.

Zayn catches Kero when Payne shakes it off again. It takes a moment, but stroking Kero’s back subdues its snarling.

“Shadow is a problematic card,” it retorts. “Even Clow himself had trouble capturing it.”

This titbit seemingly goes over Payne's head unlike Zayn’s. What does Kero mean by that? This has happened before? Under the cards’ creator's ownership? And this lad he's known for a _literal_ day blames him for every mishap in the world?

_The audacity._

Confronting his classmate will have to wait, though, as a dark fist reduces the tree they’ve perched themselves onto to splinters. Zayn leaps away with Jump, whilst Payne rolls over. The giant hand goes for a second strike, but this time Payne comes between Zayn and their attacker.

“Lightning, come forth.” In a quick motion, Payne draws a tarot card from his holster, then a straight sword from his back. “Hierophant!”

Lighting rips through the shadowy blob, and the portion cut off vanishes.

“We're not in advantage fighting it in the night.” He says, as he readies a second tarot card. “I _don't_ suppose you’ve captured Light since yesterday... have you?”

As a matter of fact, Zayn hasn’t. Still, what rubs him the wrong way— _again_ —is Payne's tone. Would it hurt to keep it civil? To ask like a normal person? Granted, a normal person doesn’t summon lighting, nor carries a sword around.

Zayn tightens his grip on his staff. “You want light?”

A rhetorical question, though also not really. If Payne wants some light, light shall he receive.

“O lightning!”—Zayn fishes the needed Clow Card—“Pour down and unveil my foe! Thunder!”

A thunderbolt shreds the sky, snaking above the clouds. It descends again, branched into eight ends that each hit a lamppost that frame this pathway in the park. The lamps light up, and their combined shine swallow the area. Any shadows crawling the ground dissipate, and all that remains is a tall, dark-hooded figure shielding their face behind an arm.

“Become a binding chain!” Zayn bids. Lighting courses from a lamppost to another, forming a bright straitjacket. He twirls his staff over his head. “Return to the guise you're meant to be in! Clow card!”

Light and dark swirl together into a glowing rectangle, dropping two cards at Zayn’s feet. On the new one, an illustration of long fabric resembles an empty hood with a dark interior. The inferior banner reads _The Shadow._

Kero nods profusely, chuckling to himself. “And _that's_ how it's done. Take some notes, puppy brat!”

Payne frowns, visibly munches the inside of his cheek, then says, “You're... _creative_ for sure, but creativity doesn't solve everything.”

Kero flies in, tiny fangs bared. “Ye brat—”

Before they sink on Payne's flesh again, Zayn yanks at Payne's right arm.

“Oi! What you think—”

“Shut it for a second, will ya?” Zayn hisses. He's more impressed by his own outburst than Payne's stunned silence. “Stay still!”

As he rolls back on Payne's sleeve, he finds what he's been looking for. This gash must be from Shadow’s first attack. Hardly threatening, but it’s bleeding enough to drip down.

“I told ya to stay still,” he reiterates, producing a handkerchief from his pocket. He wraps the wound in it, tying it specially tight when Payne attempts a complaint. Mean as it may seem, he can't mask a grin when it earns him a yelp. “Didn't kill ya, did it?”

“I could have done it myself.” Payne retracts his arm, tentatively patting his bandage. “But... Cheers, I suppose,” he adds, averting his gaze.

“‘I suppose’?! I ‘suppose’?!” Kero lands on Payne’s head, repeatedly stomping it. “Ungrateful bratty puppy!”

“Oi, oi! Stop hitting me!”

Zayn sighs. He could intervene and try to stop them, but again it's not worth the hassle. And if he's honest, in a way those two are similar: saying whatever they want and getting upset when they hear anything back.

“Not to interrupt— We have a fire here and should leave. _Now_.”

Zayn turns to Harry behind him. Somehow, he’d forgotten about bringing him. Good. It means Harry has followed his advice and recorded it from a safe distance.

“Wha’?”

They all turn their attention to where Harry points to. The lampposts hit with Thunder burn in bright blue flames. Nothing more than oversized matches.

Using Watery isn't an option and he doubts any of them carry fire extinguishers, so...

“Run,” he tells Harry, as sirens approach. He offers Payne a strained smile, then snatches Kero off his head. “See you tomorrow in school. Night.”

 _We sure leave places like criminals_ , he thinks.

#

“I’m dead!”

Zayn plummets into his bed, sinking in the covers with a content sigh. He’ll thank Harry for that sweet fennel body wash tomorrow. It _smells_ like comfort and improves one’s mood. Much needed after two days of Liam Payne. _Ugh._

“What’s wrong?” Kero asks.

“Those cards he uses...” Zayn flips over resting his chin on the back of his hands. “They’re not Clow Cards.”

Kero pauses his match, then joins Zayn in bed. These days, it’s grown into video games, and that’s how it spends most of the time that Zayn’s in school.

“Western magic. Similar to Clow’s, but weaker,” it says, frowning as it folds its arms. “That compass and now his cards… I suppose he’s really Clow’s descendant.”

Zayn replays last night’s dream. A sword-wielding person among Clow Cards. Somebody familiar with magic and Kero’s existence. The more he thinks about, the clearer the connection gets.

“Nothing to worry about. A brat can’t beat yer good work!”

Zayn slips under the covers, turning on his side. “Cheers, Kero.”

Lights off, Zayn’s thoughts run amok. It hurts to think he isn’t the only one, and even more to admit he might not be the best suited for this task. He doesn’t want to dwell on it, but Payne’s contribution to tonight’s capture is undeniable.

And maybe, just maybe, he’s Kero’s first _second_ choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> For inquiries on prompts and AUs, reach me @[zeskiyo](https://zeskiyo.tumblr.com/) on tumblr, or @[zeskiverse](https://twitter.com/zeskiverse) on twitter.


	5. Zayn and the Sports Day of Flowers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zayn faces tough competition for Louis’ attention.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Accompanying [moodboard](https://zeskiyo.tumblr.com/post/190049760070/catch-you-catch-me-by-zeski-language-english).

**V**

Sports Day is upon them, leaving little time for anything else. The Clow Cards also seem to take a break from mischief, which works for Zayn in his busy weekend. Helping with set-up and rehearsing a new choreography is enough as it is _without_ adding Payne’s insults to the equation.

There's another reason for Zayn’s excitement, too. Today he'll participate in the triathlon and some very special guests will attend just to see him. Now more than before he feels the need to win.

“Is your dad really coming?” Harry asks, fluffing out Zayn’s pompom for him.

“He'll be a bit late, but he’s coming, yeah.” Zayn beams. Since both his parents work, most of his school events are just him and Basil. So, when any of the two can make it, he's _elated_. “Bas will take pics for him.”

“And I'll be commenting the matches,” Harry says with an uncharacteristic disdain. “I can't capture your athletic feats on video today.”

Zayn attempts a sympathetic smile. Although he doesn't understand what's so fascinating about filming him, he knows how seriously Harry takes his hobby. It wouldn't surprise him if one day his best mate becomes a director, photographer or a fashion guru. There's a place for... odd clothes in the fashion world, and that's definitely Harry’s area of expertise.

“I'll try to win, but...”

As if on cue, Payne passes them. He gives Harry a curt nod, whilst mostly ignoring Zayn. Given that a brief death glare counts as ‘ignoring' someone.

Zayn looks up when two hands encase his. He meets green eyes twinkling at him, almost as if they hadn't carried sorrow an instant ago.

“Don't worry about him. I _know_ you're going to win,” he says, shaking their hands up and down thrice. “Nobody can beat you in athletics.”

“‘Cos that's his _only_ talent,” a third voice says.

Basil ruffles Zayn’s head. Usually, it would earn him a foot stomp or a glare. These never come, however, as Zayn smiles at Louis. This is no time for reprisal.

“We'll be rooting for you,” Louis corrects, and unsurprisingly he nudges Basil’s shoulder. “I'm taking the pictures today.”

Imagine the perfect gentleman. Better him twice and you'll end up with Louis. Zayn has no idea how the Tomlinson managed to raise such a golden boy, but he's eternally grateful. Granted, Zayn knows nothing about them, except that Louis lives with his grandparents. Granddad and Nan Tomlinson are on a cruise around the world, so he hasn't met them, either.

“I suppose you have competition again,” Harry whispers.

All very cryptic and mysterious, till Zayn locates what he's watching: a smiling Payne staring at Louis. And upon noticing they watch him, he glares back at them. Or at Zayn. Mostly Zayn, for sure.

_“We ask all participants to assume your positions.”_

The siren for the opening ceremony sounds. Zayn excuses himself and join the cheerleading squad. There he meets Anulika, already awaiting him.

 _Okay, you can do it, Zayn._ He kicks his legs out and shakes his pompoms. _You're ready._

When the siren sounds again, ten minutes later, he's ready for his best performance.

#

The matches go as scheduled, and before long it's time for the triathlon race. Of course, it's not a real triathlon with swimming and biking, but it's a test of endurance, agility and balance over school's entire track course.

“Run, Gremlin!”

Zayn pretends to not know Basil. Louis, on the other hand, he gladly waves back. That's right. Louis is taking pics of him. He's forgotten for a moment, watching all the competitions to come first. But now it's his turn and he's going to win. Then he'll invite Louis—

A chill runs down Zayn’s spine. It's no wonder when he catches Payne on the lane beside his, eyes fixed on him.

“I won't lose,” he says.

Well, that's his problem. Because Zayn isn't in this to lose, either. Only one can get the forest place, so how Payne will deal with it is none of his business.

Zayn frowns. “Me neither!”

“Everyone ready?” Ms. Santiago, their P.E. teacher, asks. She holds her shiny steel whistle up for all of them to see. “On your marks—” she whistles “—go!”

Zayn sprints at top speed, probably hasn't run any faster in his life. He knows there's no time to lose. If he runs any slower, he'll be in second place: he senses someone right behind him, and knows well who is it.

The first course comes up soon. Giant inflatable balls they must roll along the track till the next checkpoint. Easy on principle, but not so much when you can't see where you're headed. This one is more precision than speed, though both are important.

Next comes the agility course. Very spartan, and boot camp-like. Zayn dives under the net and begins to crawl on his heels and forearms as fast as he can. Unfortunately, a little before the end, his foot snares and Payne takes the lead.

They reach the balance course, and here Zayn fares well. He's not training acrobatics most of his afternoons to lose to a plank. Thanks to this, reclaiming first place becomes easy.

It's then the last course, a race to the starting point. Zayn runs and runs, betting the last of his energy in this last round. He's exhausted, but so is Payne. Their conditions are even. He needs to cross that line, and then he's free to collapse. Not before that.

“Keep going! It's the last lap!”

Zayn only glances at Louis, and it's more than enough to fuel him again. The opposite effect seems to take effect, too, as he hears an _“oof”_ beside him, and then Payne’s down whilst he crosses the finish line.

Anulika and Chas swarm him. This victory tastes a little hollow, but even so, Zayn will take it. If not victory itself, he'll take the image of a dusty-faced Payne furiously punching the ground.

“Girls... I need to breathe...” he says between puffy breaths. “Thank you, though.”

“I told you a Gremlin is invincible when it's about athletics,” Basil says to Louis, who's taking shots of Zayn as they get closer. “He'd have lost if it involved maths.”

Since Louis is still taking pics, kicking Basil’s shin will have to wait. A while longer than Zayn would have liked, in fact, as a familiar Irish voice announces break for food. He's about to speculate what's happened to Harry, when he notices a camera avidly filming him.

“Your mum isn't here yet?” he asks, more to escape Harry’s lens than out of curiosity. “Wanna sit with us?”

Even if he directed the question at Harry, he checks it with his brother, who in turn narrows his eyes. But then Louis elbows Basil’s ribs and all is good again.

“Come, Styles. But behave,” Basil warns.

Harry makes a kissy face. “If you insist on enjoying my company, _Brazil_.”

When Zayn thinks about it, Harry doesn't fear _shit_ in this life. Maybe it would be different if he had Basil for a sibling, but then their entire relationship would not be what it is now. _Whatever_ might be this relationship they have now.

They're just about to search for a table, when something catches Zayn’s eye. Payne is alone. Devine isn’t around, and knowing him, he must be with his own family or Anulika’s. Harry must notice the same thing, because then he gives Zayn that pleading he does that’s almost emotional blackmail.

Zayn takes a deep breath.

“Uh, do you wanna eat together?” he asks. Just to not come across as charitable, he ignores the _tsc_ he hears. “Devine isn't here and your family is living abroad, so...”

Payne turns to him. “Why would I eat with you?”

“Zayn! Harry! I found a table for us!” an excited Louis yells, waving at them.

Zayn sighs, waving back. He then turns to Payne again, “Forget I asked. Sorry for bothering ya.”

But then, something tugs at the back of his shirt, and he remains rooted in place. He glances over his shoulder and finds a hand pinching his shirt.

“Can I... join you?” a scarlet-faced Payne asks, unable to meet his gaze.

Whilst Harry giggles, Zayn sighs. _This boy changes his mind like he changes pants._

#

A meal with the enemy couldn't get any weirder, Zayn had initially thought. The arrival of his dad soon process him wrong. Because then, it's not just Basil in a glaring contest with Payne: Papa Malik demands to sit beside Payne and keeps asking all kinds of personal questions. Like an interview for joining a club of extracurricular activity.

But _worse_.

Worse being an understatement, given that Payne shows clear irritation and prefers to talk to Louis and glare at Zayn. And by glaring at Zayn he only makes Papa Malik ask him more questions to take his attention off Zayn.

Zayn wants to bawl. He just wanted to win a medal and have a meal with Louis. What is a teen boy to do to enjoy some romance in peace?

And if that's not enough, a beautiful lady arrives, out of breath and flustered. One that looks strangely familiar to Zayn.

“Tell I didn't miss everything.” She bends over, both hands on her knees. Her make-up and attire make her look like somebody straight of an office film. “The meeting took forever!”

Harry throws his arms around her waist. “Mum! You’re here!”

Zayn and Basil exchange a bewildered look. “‘Mum’?!”

Of course. Zayn has seen pics of her. He’s never met her in person, but he recognises that face. And upon close inspection, those are Harry eyes on her. Chronologically speaking Harry has her eyes, but... Yeah. That's Harry’s mum.

“I hope he hasn't been a handful,” she says, petting Harry’s hair.

“When _hasn't_ —”

One conspicuous kick under the table silences Basil. Zayn laughs it off and forces a grin for Mrs. Styles, but that doesn’t go too well: she scrutinises his face in absolute silence.

“Zayn!” She clasps her hands together, quickly cupping his face in her hands. “You’re even cuter in person! Harry talks about you all the time!”

He gives her another strained smile. “Uhh... thanks, Mrs. Styles?”

She shushes him with a waggle of her finger. “Call me ‘Anne’, silly. We practically know each other!”

And perhaps she’s more accurate in her affirmation than she thinks, as Zayn notices his Dad scrutinise her face out of the corner of his eye. He only realises because it’s the only time Papa Malik takes his eyes off Payne.

“Annabelle?”

It’s as if she’s just noticed Papa Malik there, and is ready to apologise, but then she releases Zayn like he’s red-hot iron.

“Malik?!” Her eyes dart between Zayn’s and his dad’s face, he half-expects her to become dizzy and pass out. “The resemblance— You’re Zayn’s dad?!”

With this, Zayn has officially given up on a pacific meal.

#

Mrs. Styles stretches her arms up high. Center, left, then right. Center, left, right; always in this order. She also hugs her thigh, one at a time, against her torso, something Zayn supposes it’s only possible because she’s changed into a jogging attire. The only time she stops her stretching is to glare at Zayn’s dad over her shoulder.

“I thought your Mum’s maiden name was ‘Brennan’?”

Like Zayn, Basil turns to Louis.

“It is. ‘Styles’ must be Harry’s dad’s,” Basil replies, taking a pic of the parents gathered for the parents’ race. “I’m not sure. But Baba knows her, so I guess it’s legit.”

About Harry’s dad... Zayn doesn’t know much, either. Harry never talks about him, nor has ever mentioned him. Is he alive? Is he dead? Estranged from his family? Since it’s not Zayn’s place to ask, he doesn’t. He only knows of Harry’s mum, and till today she’d been a photo and a voice on the phone to him.

To meet her and find out she’s his mum’s cousin is something straight out of a film.

“Liam, we need your help.”

Oh, yeah. Zayn nearly forgot about Payne there. It’s a good thing that Devine comes to collect him. Should have done it before lunch break, but whatever. Harry also returns with a new tape for his camcorder, so it’s still some good timing.

“I’m back, _cousins_ ,” Harry greets. He makes a point of directing all of his emphasis to Basil, and honestly Zayn has to bite his tongue (in a literal sense) to keep himself from laughing. “Let’s all get along like the big family we are, right, Brazil?”

Basil lifts his forefinger. “Listen here, your little—”

Louis gives him an expectant look.

Basil immediately lowers his finger. “Never mind.”

_“We invite all parents and legal guardians to the start line. The race is about to start.”_

Niall’s voice on the loudspeakers remind Zayn he hasn’t seen him at all. Does that mean Niall hasn’t eaten? Sports Day is about to end. After this last race, medals and trophies will be handed out, and that’s it. They’ll have to wait till next year for another one.

“On your marks...” Ms. Santiago readies her whistle, and again she blows it. “Go!”

Harry’s mum is fast. Not as fast as Papa Malik, but nearly as, and still faster than all other parents. Her movements are sharp, and even from a layperson perspective it’s clear she’s used to it.

Zayn blinks. “She’s fast.”

“She used to be on Tracking team in Uni, or summat,” Harry says. “Your dad... hm, Uncle Y...”

“ _Mamu_ ,” Zayn supplies. It’s really simple to guess what Harry’s thinking most of the time. “That’s the word you’re looking for.”

Harry beams and nods frantically. “ _Mamu_ is doing great, too. I mean, I knew you got your athletics from somewhere, but he’s a writer.”

A writer and a gym rat, if Zayn’s allowed to say this. Most people don’t expect a book lover to lift and jog, yeah. That doesn’t apply to Papa Malik. Zayn’s mum once told him how his dad nearly became a professional footballer. And watching him run like this really corroborates it.

“Are those roses?” Louis asks. His eyes glued to the sky, and for a moment he doesn’t sound his most sane. He reaches out a hand and surely enough two pink rose petals land on his palm. “It’s raining flowers.”

Funny. Usually it’s shredded paper, and they wait till the medals are awarded. But the last race is still on, and doesn’t make a lot of sense to have it this early. Then, it makes no sense at all, once the petal rain increases and flowers pile up like snow in a storm.

“Is it—”

Zayn nods to Harry, dragging them back to school. The flower level keeps growing, and they’re forced to waddle through it. Soon the younger classes have to take refuge in higher places, lest they drown in roses. All the eye can see is a pink sky over a rising pink sea.

“You’re gonna use magic here?” Harry readies his camera again. “What if somebody sees it?”

In this petal blizzard visibility isn’t Zayn’s biggest concern. They’re already buried to their navels, and that’s a more pressing matter. Besides, anyone that can see him clearly in this storm isn’t a regular human. And for his own peace of mind, he’s chosen to do it behind the main building.

“Key that conceals the power of darkness, show your true form before us,” he chants, “I, Zayn, command you under our contract. Release!”

With Fly’s help they rise above the flower rain. The area around the building is a large ocean of pink. Some teacher has replaced Niall’s voice on the speakers, but screams and general panic is what they can mostly hear.

_“What happened that ye have interrupt my fight?”_

Kero’s voice serves a reminder of Harry’s resourcefulness, as Zayn finds one of those mobile phones pressed to his ear. The only person at home to own one is his mum, and that’s because Mama Malik is often at excavation sites and her work got her one.

“We’re drowning in roses, and—” Zayn squints, locating a baby pink glow on the rooftop “—there’s some light on the roof.”

 _“Go check it, I guess,”_ Kero says. Its tone is vague, so there’s no doubt it’s already enthralled in another game. _“Look for a tall lady with curly hair. If it’s her, you’ll be fine.”_

 _What if it’s not her?_ Zayn thinks, though keeps his thoughts to himself. He heads to the light, and there he finds, like Kero has predicted, a curly-haired lady that’s double his height.

She doesn’t notice them right away. Instead, she keeps on waltzing, her extended arms following her circular movements. Her movements evoke a little more of ballet than a proper waltz, whilst her dress and wrist corsages would make her seem prom-ready. All of her is shades of pink, except for her ample emerald-green eyes.

_“So?”_

“There’s a lady with huge flower earrings and curly pigtails,” Zayn says. “The flowers keep coming out of her feet.”

Kero yells a deafening, pained _“No!”_ , then says a little more resigned, _“That’s Flower. She goes overboard with festivities, but she’s not a threat.”_

Yeah, right. Say that to all the people drowning in her roses. There’s loving festivities, and there’s loving it to (others’) death. This lady clearly falls in the second category. And Zayn prepares to capture her right away, but then she notices him, and drags him into a dance.

“Sorry, but we can’t dance,” he tells her, freeing his right hand. “Return to the humble guise that you’re meant to be in, Clow Card.”

The card of a close-eyed lady behind a great camellia floats into Zayn’s grip. He rushes to the link fence to assess the situation, however the rosy sea remains, much like the petals at his feet. The blizzard has stopped, with Flower back to card form, but the litter remains. It’s then that a flustered Payne flings the access door open, glaring at Zayn, because why would it be any different, right?

Zayn takes the mobile from Harry. “Uh, the flowers are still here.”

 _“Oh, yeah. Flower isn’t like Woody at all,”_ Kero says nonchalantly. _“Its effect don’t disappear. Ye have to clean it up yerself.”_

#

Cleaning up takes too long, even with the extra hands of family, friends, and a cleaning company Mrs. Styles hires. Zayn can’t keep track of how many bags Devine, Niall and Payne take downstairs. He knows it’s been too many and they’re still some more away from cleaning the rooftop completely.

“A little bit lame, if I’m honest.” Chas stops sweeping, resting her rake on her shoulder. “What kind of paranormal entity makes rain flowers?”

Zayn finds Harry already looking at his direction.

“Well, _Chastity_ ,” Harry begins, tying the black bag, “some people are happy to be unharmed.”

She scoffs. “I’m not saying I wanted anyone hurt. Just a bit of action wouldn’t hurt, would it?”

It’s unknown if it’s her words cause it, or if it’s coincidence. What matters is that Zayn senses a strange presence the moment Chas drops her rake. He calls out to her to no avail; her head dips forwards, and for instant she seems ready to tumble and fall on her face. Decidedly bad for a glass wearer.

“Chastity?” Harry tries, too.

This time there’s a response, as she looks up. What they see, however, are dull eyes, devoid of any life. Zayn notices her sword-shaped brooch, the one bought at White Lily, glow in a scarlet-aura.

Instinct or intuition, all Zayn knows is that he needs to take it off her. Which he attempts, but finds his wrist caught in a vicious grip. Then, it’s Chas’ hand to reach for her brooch, and a scarlet aura cloaks her entire right arm that she raises above her head. In her hand, a fancy rapier-like sword appears.

“Zed!”

The rapier swings down faster than Harry can run to Zayn’s help. Zayn, unable to run away, closes his eyes to the blow. It's only when hearing metal clang that he opens them again.

“It's the sword card! Hurry up and do something!” Payne parries Chas’ sword with his own, using her loss of balance to free Zayn. “She won't listen to you holding that sword.”

The real Chas would never point a blade him, so Payne must be correct. And although Zayn doesn't like the prospect of getting help from the enemy, he complies. They must act fast, or Devine and Niall will be back and things will get messier.

How can he force her to release the sword, though? She's even giving Payne a hard time, and Zayn reckons that sword of his isn’t for decoration. And Chas never tried fencing in her life to possess such fluid movements.

So, how can Zayn intervene?

He could try Windy, if he knew it works on humans. Watery is too rough for this, as is Thunder. Woody is a strong candidate, till Chas chops part of the link fence like a heated knife through butter. If only he could catch her attention—

 _That's it!_ Zayn pulls out the cards he believes will work.

“O mirage, daze her with the vision she seeks the most.” He casts the card up. “Illusion!”

Rainbow-coloured flames spit forth, gaining a vague humanoid shape. Upon seeing it, Chas halts, giving Zayn the opportunity he seeks.

“O umbra, become one with me and increase my reach!” He chucks a second card in the air, twirling his staff. “Shadow!”

A dark-hooded entity dives into Zayn’s shadow making it taller. He reaches his arm out as to touch Chas, and when karate chopping her arm with his shadow, it also causes her to drop her sword. Payne catches her just before she collapses on the floor.

“Return to the humble guise that you’re meant to be in!” He raises his staff whose shadow reaches the shadow of the now floating sword. “Clow Card!”

Multiples chains sprout from the rectangular light, binding and dragging Sword in. A card with a rapier of wing-shaped handle and bound in chains descends on Zayn’s hand. He then rushes along with Harry to where Payne holds Chas.

“Exhaustion after the takeover,” Payne tells him, placing her in his arms. “Sword grants top swordsmanship, but for an unfit body, the toll is hefty.”

Zayn breathes out. As long as she's not injured, it's fine. Maybe she'll finally abandon her sedentary life after this episode.

“Cheers, Payne.”

Payne returns his sword to a small charm that he pockets. “For what? Losing two cards to you in one day?”

“For not hurting her. I know you could have fought back, but you didn't.” Zayn grins. “You're pretty decent when you want to aren’t ya?”

Zayn blinks, watching Payne falls on his arse and then crawl backwards and away from him.

“I-I’m not your mate! Stop thanking me!” he stutters, then strides for the door with red ears. Devine and Niall have just come back, but he drags the former back with him, despite Devine’s questioning about the bags.

Niall points over his shoulder. “...What’s with him?”

Harry lowers his camera, grinning from ear to ear. Since when does he have it out? It is Harry, so odds are he's filmed the whole ordeal.

“The start of an epiphany, hopefully,” he replies. “ _This_ is a development I wanna register.”

Like Niall, Zayn can't say he gets the cryptic words. And knowing Harry, it might be better to remain ignorant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> For inquiries on prompts and AUs, reach me @[zeskiyo](https://zeskiyo.tumblr.com/) on tumblr, or @[zeskiverse](https://twitter.com/zeskiverse) on twitter.


	6. Zayn and the Endless Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After retaking a recorder test again and again, Zayn and Payne call a temporary truce.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Accompanying [moodboard](https://zeskiyo.tumblr.com/post/190277863650/catch-you-catch-me-by-zeski-language-english).

**VI**

Music is just another challenging subject for Zayn. His voice isn’t bad, and he has a knack for writing lyrics, but melody and instruments fly over his head. Figuratively and literally speaking, since he often chucks his recorder away in frustration. So, it’s no wonder he dreads any sort of test.

“Malik. Zayn Malik.”

His entire body goes stiff at having his named called up. It’s as if all connections between his limbs and brain are severed, and he’s forced to walk like a knock-off of an articulated toy.

“Relax. Feel the song,” Harry advises in a whisper, shrugging his shoulders rhythmically. “It’ll be fine!”

It _should_ be fine. They’ve spent the whole afternoon rehearsing at Harry’s house yesterday. Sure, it’s been partially to solve Harry’s problem—that turned out to be Shield locking his safe—but they’ve actually rehearsed. _It’s fine._

And it is... till it’s not. Zayn manages to follow the song fairly well, and then he misses the notes near the end. Even their teacher stops playing the piano, startled by the sudden _piiii_.

If she decides to clobber him with her piano, he’ll understand. Sorta wants her to do so, too.

“A little more practice will make it splendid. Return to your seat, please,” she tells him with a sympathetic smile. The silver lining is this substitute teacher uplifts them, unlike Mr. Brown. “Next… Payne? Liam Payne?”

It’s hard to recognise him without a scowl, but it’s really him to pass Zayn by, as rigid as Zayn himself. Maybe music isn’t his forte, either? If so, good. One less thing for him to rub in Zayn’s face. He’s toned it down a bit since Sports Days, but a single defeat can’t possibly make him humble forever.

Now, it’s not like Zayn to wish people ill, nor is it the case here. But when Payne doesn’t excel at something, he’s relieved. Suddenly, Payne isn’t as perfect and unreachable as his constant nagging of Zayn makes him seem. They’re both human, with their own strengths and weaknesses.

Till Payne gives him reason to not believe it, that is.

“Also need a little more practice,” the substitute teacher says, again with a smile.

 _Yeah, still human,_ Zayn thinks.

#

“She’s given you a second chance. We just have to practise some more.”

Easy for Harry to say. Were Zayn able to play fast songs on the bloody flute, he'd agree. That insane finger control? There’s more magic to it than all the cards Zayn has collected so far. It’s a consequence of music lessons from infant age, but in no way takes away Harry’s merit. Talent is also repetition and hard work. Zayn’s years of baton twirling have taught him.

Zayn grins. “You’ll save my arse, Haz.”

“It’s not like you were the only one.” Harry juts his chin at some direction. Here comes a focused Payne playing his recorder and eyes on the ground. “He really shouldn’t be _flutewalking_.”

“Be wha’?”

“Like ‘sleepwalking’… but with a flute,” Harry says.

And maybe he’s right, because then a football flies in Payne’s direction. Devine and the other boys try calling to him, but absorbed in his music, he receives it straight to his face.

Zayn and Harry dash in his direction, as do Devine and a boy from the other team.

“You all right?” Zayn asks. He hauls Payne up by the hand. “Feeling dizzy? Can you hear me?”

Payne grunts, snatching his recorder from Harry. The effort is seemingly too much, and he tumbles into Devine’s arms. There’s a thin trickle of red running his left nostril, too. A collision like that could have caused a concussion, or something.

“We’ll take him.” Devine dives under Payne’s right arm, the other boy doing the same on his left side. “I’m so sorry, bro.”

The trio walk away, headed into the main building. Zayn watches and watches, till they disappear, and then joins Harry again. A full-force blow to the face? That probably hurts more than playing dodgeball. _Ouch._ All he can think is that Payne’s lucky it’s been a ball to his face than to his privates. _That_ Zayn reckons hurts infinitely more.

“You’re worried about him.”

Zayn perks up at the statement. “Aren’t you?”

“Yeah, but not like you are?” He cocks an eyebrow. “I thought you were enemies.”

Not ‘ _enemies’_. That’s a harsh word. They might not see things from the same angle, and Payne gets on his nerves 99% of the time, but he’s not wishing ill on the lad. And after helping save Chas, he can’t assume only bad things about Payne. It’s a pity that his decent side appears seldom, but it does exist. Past all that scowling and curls.

“I’m not _heartless_ , Styles,” he grunts, adjusting his bag on his back. “Now, come. I want to get this song right before bed.”

And that’s what Zayn does. He spends the afternoon and evening in his room till he gets a song right. Every single note, as confirmed by Kero. He’s ready for that test. _Really_ ready, this time.

Just before going to bed, he places his flute in his bag to show Harry his improvement. He then falls into a comfortable sleep, missing how, at midnight, the arms of his alarm clock spin backwards.

#

The next morning, Zayn brims with energy. He feels refreshed, even though he’s gone to bed around midnight. He’d expected to wake up half-dead, but instead it’s as if he’s slept double his usual sleeping hours. Nothing can bring him down, especially when he’s ready to ace that test next week.

Or so he thinks, before he goes to class and his classmates head to the piano room. And although he catches Payne staring at him, he thinks nothing of it— hardly a novelty by now, is it?

“Malik. Zayn Malik.”

Zayn stands up. He takes his flute out of its case, and then looks at Harry for help. He could swear they’ve had this test yesterday.

“Relax. Just feel the song,” Harry advises in a whisper, shrugging his shoulders rhythmically. “It’ll be fine!”

 _He said the same thing yesterday._ Zayn swallows an imaginary lump in his throat. The substitute teacher awaits him, and he must not make her wait longer. He takes his spot by her piano, and begins to play the song.

Completely and flawlessly.

“Splendid! Return to your seat, please,” she tells him with a small smile. “Next… Payne? Liam Payne?”

This time, when Payne passes Zayn by, he isn’t rigid and robotic in his movements. Instead of joining the teacher right away, he grabs Zayn’s wrist, and whispers, “You’ve noticed it, too.”

“Still needs a little more practice,” the substitute teacher says, again with a smile.

_Something is obviously wrong._

#

“She would have given you a second chance. I’m glad you don’t need to practise some more.”

Not quite the same, but still eerily similar to his own words yesterday. It’s long past the point of mere coincidence or a lingering _déjà vu_. Everything is happening again, and nobody has noticed it.

“I’m telling you. This all happened yesterday!” he tells Harry. “I know tha’.”

“It’s like you are the only one feeling that.” Harry juts his chin at some direction. Here comes a focused Payne playing his recorder and eyes on the ground. “He really shouldn’t _flutewalking_.”

“Like ‘sleepwalking’ but with a flute, I know. You told me that already,” Zayn says, and it’s easy to tell why Harry stares at him with widened eyes. “Watch this. He’ll take a football straight to his face.”

Except that when the football flies in Payne’s direction, and Devine and the other boys call to him, he sends it back with a bicycle kick, scoring a goal.

Harry gives Zayn a sceptical look. Then, they wait till Payne catches up to them.

“I got hit in the face yesterday. Everything is happening again,” he says. His face is flustered, and it’s more his confession than his acrobatics. At the very least Harry will assume they’re _both_ bonkers, Zayn supposes. “You’ve noticed it, too.”

Harry leans in. “A Clow Card?”

“Sensed anything?” Payne asks, to which Zayn shakes his head. Sensing Clow cards has become easier after several encounters. “Must be acting when we’re sleeping. We just have to find it before that.”

On a quick consultancy with Kero, they agree on investigating the local clock tower. _“A clock important to the whole town,_ ” it suggests. Payne volunteers to check it with his compass, since he won’t spend the afternoon in A&E. Before he leaves, Zayn grabs his wrist.

“Be careful,” he warns. “Don’t do anything by yourself.”

Payne glances at the contact, then flicks his wrist free. He’s hardly content with the gesture, and also glares at Zayn, but then adds in a low tone, “Same for you.”

“You’re worried about him,” Harry chirps, waving Payne goodbye.

Zayn sighs. _Not this again._

“Aren’t you?”

“Yeah, but not like you are?” Harry cocks an eyebrow. “I thought you were enemies.”

“We’re not having this conversation _again_ ,” he says, offering a view of his back for an answer.

#

“There’s a card in there.” Payne swats his compass, severing the thread of light that connects it to the clock tower. “I’m going in.”

“So are we, puppy brat!” Kero grunts. Its face softens, and it turns to Zayn with pleading eyes, on the verge of crying. It's been like this since losing its game save to the day ‘reset’. “You _must_ capture that villain!”

Zayn’s compelled to agree. He doesn’t fancy dressing like a faerie again. Come on. Harry has put extra work into these wings, and all this glitter is evidence. This devil’s sparkling dandruff won’t come off for at least three months. He just knows it. That’s why he’s always hated crafts with glitter. Not for the glitter itself, but for its (ever)lasting effect.

“It looks great on you! I took inspiration from a sylph,” Harry says, readying his camera. “Ready when you are.”

Payne sods off to who-knows-where, whilst Zayn takes off with Fly. He circles the bell area twice, where he senses the presence stronger. He watches and watches, till catching movement in the tower. There’s someone behind one of the pillars. A woman of long hair and ears, carrying an oversized hourglass on her lap.

“I knew it... that’s Time!” Kero points its stubby arm in the man’s direction. “Hurry before it resets the day again!”

“Return to the humble guise that you’re meant to be in,” Zayn chants, homing in on the old woman. The moment he releases Fly’s magic, he’ll seal Time and end this long day. “Clow—”

Time places her hands on her hourglass. Suddenly, Fly doesn’t move as fast. Not only Fly, Zayn notices. His reactions have also grown sluggish, as do his words, Kero’s, and Kero itself.

“It’s… slowed… the.. flow… of… time...” Kero says. The words come out dragged, and in a far deeper tone. “This… is… bad.”

However, time flows normally, as they’re forced to watch the hands of the clock creep to midnight. Then, they’re stuck. Time’s hourglass glows—along with the tower—and the shiny sand in it begins to flow upwards.

#

Kero sighs. “Ye should have come earlier.”

Yeah, Zayn knows that. He’s even ditched his flute studies for the night, but then he had to help his parents with the chores, and now he’s here, and it’s again close to midnight. Roughly the same time as ‘yesterday’s today’, except that he’s lived the same day _thrice_. His spirits can’t stay high. On the bright side, no sign of Payne tonight.

“It looks great on you! I—”

“—took inspiration from a sylph, right?” Zayn supplies for Harry, also sighing. “You said that yesterday.”

Harry frowns for a moment, then simply shrugs it off. “Ready when you are.”

“Fly in and capture it. We already know where it is,” Kero instructs. Its voice has equal parts of frustration and anger. Honestly, Zayn sympathises. They’ve been through today too many times. “It can only turns back time in one day and once a day.”

“Return to the humble guise that you’re meant to be in,” Zayn chants before even taking off. He soars the tower in a spiral to engage Time from below instead of above. “Clow—”

The hands of the clock begin to move, and they’re not the only ones: the face of the clock also rotates. As it strikes midnight, around 15 minutes earlier, the flow of time reverses. Zayn spirals downwards, and rewind all his actions, speaking backwards gibberish till it’s dark for him again.

#

By his fourth ‘today’, Zayn’s exhausted. Mentally more than physically, since he’s doing the same things over and over. Payne isn’t doing any better, and except for Harry—oblivious to the effects of magic—they all have this dark cloud overhead.

“If we surround it and deflect its magic, we can counter attack,” Payne says. He points to the East and West sides of the tower, as well as the South. “I hate this, but I ask for a truce. Tonight only,” he clarifies.

Kero folds its arms. “Puppy brat’s plan isn’t bad, actually. A bit impressed with yer thinking.”

Between another ‘today’ and a quick alliance, their choice seems obvious. They each get one side of the tower. Kero on South, Payne on East, and Zayn on West. Zayn tightens his grip on his staff. Even if Payne has told him to deflect it, with his current cards, he can only think of one possible solution. If that doesn’t work, they’re screwed backwards.

For real.

Deep breaths, he activates Fly and hops on his staff, chanting, “O aegis! Guard us against the sands of time!”

Zayn takes off, and on Harry’s light signal, he flies into the tower, along with the other two. When Time places her hands on her hourglass, he tosses a card to the floor.

“Shield!”

A light blue sphere envelopes all three of them. Zayn closes his eyes on reflex, but then opens them again. He looks at himself and he’s still a glitter-sprinkled faerie, and he’s still in the clock tower. Time stares at him with panicked eyes. It has nowhere to escape to, except for the north face opening.

“Don’t let it flee!” Kero shouts. “It can't turn time back after midnight!”

“Lightning, come forth!” Payne draws his sword, stabbing it to the floor. “Hierophant!”

A screen of lightning seals the exit, electrocuting the ancient woman for ten seconds. The hourglass hits the floor and rolls away, whilst she collapses, struggling to get up.

“Return to the humble guise that you’re meant to be in.” Zayn jogs to Time, his staff up in the air. “Clow Card!”

The woman’s robes are sucked into the rectangular light, and eventually all of her, too. Zayn opens his hand to catch the card, but it dodges him, floating into Payne’s grip instead. Kero deflates.

Payne holds up a card with a wrinkled woman with elf ears in robes. In her hands she holds an hourglass, and like the other humanoid cards, her eyes remain closed.

“He defeated the card. He gets to keep it,” Kero laments. “Those are the rules.”

#

A new school day has never brought Zayn as much satisfaction as not repeating it for a whole week. With Time sealed, they have nothing to worry about again. It also causes him to overthink, because every time he’s reminded of it, he thinks of this card lost to Payne. There’s more to worry about him, and the prospect dampens Zayn’s mood for the day.

Till a familiar voice stops him on his way back home.

“Zayn!”

He turns around to a beaming Louis approaching him. If this is the universe’s apology for doing him dirty this week, he’ll gladly accept it. The only thing better than this would be Louis accompanying him on the way home.

“Want me to take you home?”

Although far from his proudest moment, he chooses to ignore his own tight-lipped squeal and takes Louis’ offer. Their talk is more of the same: school life and Basil. Whenever Louis has the chance, he checks on how Zayn’s doing in school, or if Basil is teasing him too much. It’s nice to be cared for, and so he doesn’t mind opening up a bit. It’s just a pity that it’s always a short trip and therefore a short chat.

“Cheers, Lou.” He unlocks the gate, gets inside, and locks it again. “Uh, why Bas isn’t with you?”

Louis frowns. “You don’t know?”

It’s Zayn’s turn to sport a frown of his own, because what’s with the secrecy? The only thing Basil has written on their task board is that he’ll be home late. That usually means he’s with Louis, but if Louis is here...

“He didn’t say anything.” He shakes his head. “Only that he’ll come in a bit later.”

Louis nods and reaches into his pocket. Zayn instinctively open his hands for some candy, but this time it’s not it. Not even something edible, in fact.

“Tickets?” He inspects them up close. “For a play?”

“You can have them. Nan and granddad are still on their cruise,” Louis says. It may explain why he has them, but not why he’s _giving_ them away. “It’s this weekend. Go with your mates.”

A play? This weekend? And Basil said nothing about it? To say Zayn’s mouth tastes of betrayal is an understatement. Just two days away, too! Good thing Zayn’s free. He’ll ring Harry later, and see if they’ll go together.

Wait. A third ticket?

Zayn counts the tickets again. “Me, Haz, and...”

“That mate of yours with the intense eyebrows? The one always watching you?” Louis chuckles, and it’s easily among the ten most adorable sounds in the world. “I feel like Bas isn’t too fond of him.”

Neither is Zayn, but this doesn’t keep Louis from assuming they’re friends, does it? And then he beams like sun, making it impossible for Zayn to clear it up. But then, he’ll have to invite Payne. And he knows it’ll be a resounding _“yes!”_ as soon as he mentions Louis’ name. _Gosh._

Trapped in the fabric of society and courtesies, Zayn resigns to his fate. Who knows, right? Payne might be busy and won’t attend. Or maybe he’ll flat out refuse it even after mentioning Louis. Yes, there’s still hope.

#

Hope has been found in a ditch, a seven inch knife lodged to its back.

Zayn takes his seat between Harry and Payne. It’s no use to glare at Harry, so he’ll save the effort. He doubts it would work, either. He knows the moment the play ends, Harry will scram to chat with costume designers and backstage crew.

“Here says it’s a reread of Cinderella,” Harry tells him. “Maybe Brazil is Prince Charming?”

Zayn shrugs. Basil has kept the entire play a secret. Even when confronted about it, he simply muttered _“Lou and his big mouth…”_ Maybe he has a minor role, like a background character at the ball? His managing skills are good, and it wouldn’t be a surprise to find out he’s only working backstage.

The first act alarm rings. They’ll know soon.

 _“Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, there lived a beautiful, cheerful and kind girl,”_ a female narrator says over the speakers. A spotlight shines on a tall girl in peasant clothes. _“Her name was Cinderella.”_

“I love life… and to hear birds singing...” Cinderella says, then turns around.

Harry clutches his imaginary pearls. “Is that—”

“That’s… your brother, right?” Payne asks, and he’s every ounce of sceptical as Harry.

In a rag of a dress and blonde wig, Basil sweeps the stage with a precarious broom. The shock isn’t much his role, but rather his blatant bored tone. What part of that makes Cinderella sound _remotely_ cheerful?

_“After her parents’ death, Cinderella had no family left, except for her stepmum and stepsisters.”_

“Have you not finished cleaning, yet?” A voice booms from the other side of the stage. “You still have to clean our bedrooms and the kitchen!”

It’s not before light shines to the left of the stage, that’s revealed an all-boys threesome in heavy make-up, jewellery, and fancy dresses. Everything about how they carry themselves and speak is exaggerated, but their acting also brims with the very energy Basil’s lacks. Two opposite extremes.

Whether secondhand embarrassment or bad acting, Zayn understands why Basil had decided to keep quiet about it. Most people in the audience laugh, but their reasons for it don’t settle well with Zayn. Neither do with Harry, as someone who advocates for dressing whatever one likes. Or, in their particular case, dressing _Zayn_ with whatever he’s made for that week.

A finger pokes Zayn’s shoulder, and he turns to a bashful Payne staring at his own lap.

“Are you sure he’s coming?”

“‘He’? You mean Louis?” he asks, to which Payne nods, still not meeting his eyes. “No idea. And like... I don’t know if I wan’ to see him join this mess, really.”

Good or bad, a familiar voice comforts Cinderella after her stepsisters and stepmum leave for the ball. She looks around for a source, and then a spotlight shines over a... cow.

Obviously, not a real cow, but Louis in dalmatian-like robes. His wand is a plastic glove—inflated like udders—on a stick, and around his neck he wears a cowbell.

“I am you Dairy Godmother,” Louis explains, and Zayn’s soul nearly flees his body. Harry and Payne are much more into it, though for Harry it’s surely the pun aspect of it all. “I am here to take you to the ball.”

The act ends with a sceptical Cinderella accepting her Fairy Godcow (or whatever) and her help. When the curtains come up again, the audience is met with a ball, and several extras across the stage. Cinderella’s stepsisters dance with a prince, who has his face strategically kept from the audience.

“I still haven’t found a suitable spouse,” Prince Charming says, and his voice is much more high-pitched than any of the female characters. “It pains me to admit this has ended in failure.”

In this moment, Cinderella walks in. More like _marches_ in, because Basil carries himself in a typical male way. Prince Charming is oblivious to it, and when he turns around, he reveals the face of a heavily-freckled girl. So far, she’s the only one who seems to take this seriously.

Prince Charming asks Cinderela for a dance. They waltz around the stage under the spotlights. Cinderella’s stepsisters and stepmum fade in the background, much like other characters. If asked, Zayn would say it’s the only saving grace for the whole play. Granted, no one should mind that Basil leads his co-star, instead of the other way round, everything else considered.

“She’s good,” Harry says. “I also like her prince clothes.”

“She’s better than 95% of the cast. They’ll always make her look good,” Payne points out.

And okay, it’s a dig at his brother, but Zayn can’t disagree. Between his brother’s begrudging acting and the overly eager step-family, the prince shines. Her control is also impressive, as Harry has pointed out on how she projects her voice.

This act ends with Cinderella’s escape, and then cuts to the stairway scene. It’s an ‘us’ moment. No other characters are around, and fog indicates a dream-like state for the couple. From the balcony, Prince Charming pleads for her to stay.

“I’m not who I seem to be. Erase me from your heart by the last toll of the clock,” Basil says.

A little bit of emotion, would make it a beautiful scene. But instead, they get the intonation of someone reading a recipe, killing any romance off. (Even if Zayn finds it hard to romanticise clock tolls after recent events.)

 _Wha’?_ Payne’s arched eyebrows alerts Zayn of a new presence. There’s no visual indication of a Clow Card, but the presence is here. They have to find it, and soon.

Harry puts a hand to his ear. “You lot hear something... breaking?”

One of the beams supporting the curtains gives out, crashing onto the stage. The stairway Basil stands on erodes at the base. Zayn notices the fog from earlier is tinted green and that the sparse presence has grown stronger.

People start to panic. The corrosive fog wears down scenario and lights start to rain down. Prince Charming shrieks, and Basil rushes to her. The stairs creak with unbalanced weight, bending forwards.

Zayn fists his key. He needs somewhere discreet to act. But where?

“Seal it right away. If I run out of energy, we’re all screwed.” Payne whispers to him, pulling Time out of his pocket. He closes his eyes, holding his hand in a vertical two-finger salute before the Clow Card.

“Halt the sands of the hourglass, Time.”

An olive green glow swallows the theatre. No one moves, nothing falls apart. Everything remains still, save for Zayn, Payne, and the lime green fog rolling across the stage.

“Key that conceals the power of darkness, show your true form before us,” he chants. “I, Zayn, command you under our contract. Release!”

Time is of precedence, and he chucks a card up, already into the next incantation.

“O numbra! Become a blanket to contain this fog! Shadow!”

Darkness swallows the stage, warping into a small dome at the middle. Payne drops to one knee. Does Time consume this absurd amount of magic? Because Zayn recalls him using six Tarot cards at once and not becoming anywhere near as laboured.

“Return to the humble guise that you’re meant to be in!” He twirls his staff. “Clow Card!”

Black and green swirl into the rectangular light. Zayn pockets two cards, and returns his staff to a key. When Time’s effect lifts up, he lunges to keep Payne from collapsing.

 _“We ask everyone to remain calm and head to the exit in an orderly fashion,”_ the narrator says instead of continuing her story. _“I repeat: remain calm and proceed to the exit.”_

However, Basil and Prince Charming are still up the stairs, and those finally give out. Zayn still steadies Payne, and without his wand can’t even use his magic.

“Bas!” he cries out.

“...Lovers.”

A breeze blows over the stage, cushioning Basil’s fall. It doubles as a shelter, and the wreckage bounces off them. When Basil stands again, he rushes to the exit with Prince Charming in his arms.

“We’re leaving, too, boys.” Harry slots under Payne’s other arm. “C’mon!”

“Trying to get yourself killed, aren’t ya? Tha’ was dangerous!” Zayn hisses to Payne. It’s unthinkable he’d used magic already exhausted as he is. “Thanks for saving my brother, though. I appreciate tha’.”

Payne snorts. “Funny way to show gratitude.”

“You little—”

“Let me know if you need privacy,” Harry says.

There’s little to besides readjusting Payne on his shoulder, and evacuating the theatre. Aid comes to tend to minor injuries, and hopefully nobody has more than scratches or small bruises. Even Basil, who’s been at the centre of it all has only a few cuts, and gets properly cleaned up and stitched.

Payne also receives help, though for him there’s no help besides a good night of sleep. He insists on going home alone, but Harry says he can’t. In the end, Harry puts him in a taxi and pays for it upfront. According to Harry, _“a small token for helping my cousins.”_ Zayn also has a little something, and pulls him aside.

“Here.” He holds out a card with a long-haired female elf with a large sphere on her forehead, and snow-like things raining from her hair. The lore underneath her reads _The Mist_. “It’s yours.”

Payne glances at it, his eyes narrowing. “I don’t need charity, Malik.”

“It’s not.” Zayn grabs Payne’s wrist, placing the card on his hand. “I could do something because you stopped time. I’m just being reasonable.”

“‘Reasonable’ would be giving me all your cards.”

 _Does he ever give up?_ Zayn pushes him in the shoulder, momentarily forgetting Payne’s exhaustion. Then he lunges forwards and steadies him before both hit the ground.

“I said ‘reasonable’,” he says, changing his tone completely, “The word yer looking for is _‘delusional’_ , puppy brat. Ye can’t beat the one I’ve chosen.”

And for a moment Payne frowns, mortally offended like he always does, but then the corners of his mouth pull and a snort escapes him. His face then resembles a fawn caught in headlights.

“I made you... laugh?”

Payne shakes his head vehemently. “No, you didn’t.”

“Yes, I did it!” Zayn insists. He’s not going barmy yet. He knows an amused sound when he hears one. “Not saying it’s bad or anything. Just surprised, I suppose? You take everything too seriously.”

Payne glares back. He seems ready to push Zayn away, but then it’d mean a nasty fall for him, and so he doesn't.

“I thought I made it clear I have nothing against you personally. You just happen to be in my way.” Payne pockets the Mist card, then straights himself up. “In the end, they’ll all be mine. Keep that in mind.”

“Thanks for saving my brother!” he calls out after Payne. “...I guess,” he adds in a quieter tone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> For inquiries on prompts and AUs, reach me @[zeskiyo](https://zeskiyo.tumblr.com/) on tumblr, or @[zeskiverse](https://twitter.com/zeskiverse) on twitter.


	7. Zayn and One More Zayn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A _doppelgänger_ seems keen on getting Zayn a bad reputation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Accompanying [moodboard](https://zeskiyo.tumblr.com/post/190464485115/catch-you-catch-me-by-zeski-language-english).

**VII**

A bank holiday comes in a very opportune moment. Between multiple recorder tests and the incident during Basil’s play, Zayn deserves a three-day weekend. It's the perfect opportunity to focus on himself, too. So, when Harry suggests they get craft materials, he readily accepts the invitation.

“They have pretty much everything I use for your outfits,” Harry says, holding the door for them. “Paper, thread, cold porcelain, glitter— anything you can think of.”

For now, Zayn should stick to some yarn and knitting needles. His personal project is crafting an accessory, a gift. The idea has grown on him since finding an old magazine of his mum's. Since it's his first time, he's picked something basic and simple for a beginner: a scarf.

“Hope I won't gouge my eyes with those needles,” he jokes.

They head straight for the knitting and crocheting aisle. Harry’s familiarity with the place would be frightening, had Zayn not known him for his hobbies. It takes around five minutes to locate needles (a smaller and a bigger pair) and a huge roll of ochre yarn (that weighs like a newborn baby, honestly).

Next they go pick up Harry’s supplies. Or would, if not for a security guard stepping in their way. Precisely in _Zayn’s_ way.

“You dare come back after all the damage you've caused,” the man says.

Zayn looks behind them. Nope, it's only them in the aisle.

“Are you talking about us? We just got here.”

But the man doesn't listen. He reaches for Zayn’s arm, and that's when Harry steps between them. The guard backs off almost instantly.

“What seems to be the problem, sir?”

Begrudgingly, the man tells them what Zayn has done, even showing them broken shelves and buttons scattered around the store. It's a big mess, all right. They can gather the buttons, but the drawers and dividers are shattered and done for.

Zayn pulls a receipt from the book store they've visited on their way here. “It couldn't be me, see?”

The guard squints, his scowl still not gone. “Four different people recognised you.”

It doesn't look like he's dropping it, and before the police get involved, Harry pays for all the damage. Not without making it clear it's not their fault, of course. This conclusion leaves a bitter taste in Zayn’s mouth, but nothing else he can do. Once he pays for his items, they leave.

There goes Zayn’s excitement. As if the misunderstanding at the craft shop isn’t a hard blow, the whole knitting is harder than he'd thought. _Way_ harder.

Sometimes, he'll pull the needle too much and miss a stitch. Some other times, he'll keep the thread too taut and make it impossible to get a needle in. Then, he'll have to pull and undo the whole thing. This goes on for at least seven attempts.

“It's more like a marathon. Keep steady and you'll get there,” Harry encourages him. At the same time, the beginnings of a beanie take form on his lap. “Once you get it, you can finish anything!”

Zayn grunts, untangling himself from ochre thread. “The only thing I'm finishing is my patience.”

There's a knock on the door, and Basil slips in. Also sporting an annoyed look.

“ _Baba_ said you've been here the whole afternoon.”

“We're working on something,” Harry replies in Zayn’s instead. This has become somewhat of a routine today. “What’s the deal, my dear Brazil?”

Basil stares at Zayn for an unnerving minute, then places his hand on Zayn’s head and frantically ruffles his hair.

“Oi! Stop tha’, you—”

“Yeah, I don’t think it was you,” Basil finally says. “I saw someone looking like you almost cause a huge car accident earlier.”

Okay, this has officially crossed the line into weird territory. Unless Zayn has an evil twin he doesn’t know about, something is happening. He’ll consult with Kero when it wakes up.

“See? I told you it wasn’t him.”

Zayn hides his future scarf behind his back at blinding speed. It’s almost a miracle he doesn’t impale himself with his needles, really. In which case he’d blame it on Basil for leaving essential details aside; he can’t just not mention Louis visiting their house.

“Hiya, lads!” Louis chirps. His eyes land on the paper bags by the end of Zayn’s bed, and if possible, his face lights up even more. “A school project?”

The words don’t come out. Zayn can come up with an excuse, but then he’d lie. Or, he can tell the truth, and open the door for several more questions. Something he’s not keen on, especially when Basil watches him with a cocked eyebrow.

“What about you, Tommo?” Harry asks, and his conspicuous wink tells Zayn his motivations. “I suppose you’re not here just to hang out with Brazil.”

Basil glares at him. “Oi!”

But Louis laughs. Of course, he does. Never one to misread anything or look forlorn. He doesn’t even mind that Harry has steered the conversation and overlooked his question.

Zayn can’t help that his heart grows tenfold.

“I’m cutting his hair today,” Louis says, to which Basil holds open the case he carries— Papa Malik’s hair cutting kit. “I can cut yours, too, if you want.”

“I’m not ready for scissors any time soon, but cheers.” Harry flicks his only, robust plait over his shoulders. His hair has just reached waist length, so it seems natural he won’t want a haircut. “Zaynie is up for it, though.”

Louis nods. “A trim would suffice. It’s a pity to cut such pretty hair.”

“Yeah, yeah. I hear that _every time_.” Basil closes the case, tucking it under his arm. “Just don’t wash his hair. Getting a gremlin wet is dangerous.”

Before they all head downstairs, to the backyard, Zayn makes a mental note of getting revenge on his dear brother.

#

In the end, Louis remembers something he has to do for his grandparents, and leaves. Zayn understands, despite his frustration. He doesn’t get a new haircut, but at least he can use the opportunity to consult with Kero. And just this time, because there’s a restlessness in his heart, he waits till Harry goes home.

“It could a _doppelgänger_.” Kero crosses its tiny arms, drifting across Zayn’s room in lotus position. As usual, its tail does that little snaking whenever he ponders something. “They seem keen on getting ye into trouble, too. It can’t be a coincidence.”

Zayn clenches his fist. He’d hoped to hear about something more normal and less _paranormal_.

“Wha’ ‘bout a Clow Card?”

Kero nods. “There’s always a possibility, but... ye haven’t seen this other boy, right?”

Honestly? Zayn can’t say he wants to see his double. Harry had to pay for damages neither caused, and then Basil tells him about him running among cars. This other Zayn sounds deranged and capable of who knows what else.

“I know!” Kero exclaims. A golden aura envelops him, and the drawer of Zayn’s desk opens, the Book of Clow emerging from it. “I’ll teach how to read your fortune.”

“Uh, okay...”

Preparation takes time. Under Kero’s instructions, Zayn shuffles all cards he has with his left hand. He cuts them into three piles on his desk, gathering them into one pile in the order he wants, again with his left hand. Only then he draws cards he places in a diamond formation, in five rows— one, two, three, two and one.

“Close yer eyes and repeat after me,” Kero orders. “Cards created by Clow, heed my call. Reveal the identity of that who rises against me.”

“Cards created by Clow, heed my call,” Zayn repeats. Around him, a gentle breeze starts to swirl. “Reveal the identity of that who rises against me.”

When Zayn opens his eyes again, the nine cards he’s picked glow gold on his desk. Once it dies out, he flips the topmost card.

“Windy... I knew it!” Kero lands on Zayn’s head, levitating the card. “The other cards know about ye. This one means transmission of news, information.”

 _Wait._ They know Zayn is collecting them? Know his name, what he’s like and where he lives? Though, when he thinks about it, most cards have bothered either him or someone in his circle. And this can’t be good.

He flips the three cards in the middle row— Shadow, Watery and Illusion.

“Those are related to yer foe.” Kero levitates the three as well. “They’re attributes of whatever yer facing.”

Which... doesn’t say much, to be honest. The only thing they have in common, in Zayn’s eyes, is being Clow Cards.

“Flip the last one,” Kero says. “That should be their goal.”

Zayn flips the bottom-most card. “Flower?”

This one Kero doesn’t levitate, as Zayn brings it close to his face on his own. He scrutinises it, trying to think of how someone seeking to harm him would want flowers. Perhaps he’s not yet good at this fortune telling stuff.

Zayn closes his eyes again, trying to think of something. An image of purple flowers come to his mind. They’re basil flowers, if he’s not mistaken. He focuses harder on the flowers, and there’s a person in there, too. A tall bloke—

“Bas!” he exclaims, eyes flying open. “It’s after my brother!”

#

“I thought you were with Styles. Where’s he?” Basil asks.

However, Zayn doesn’t reply, carries on walking. Now and then he smiles at Basil, but other than that, there’s no indication he’s listening. It’s not before they reach the woods that he finally says something back.

“I lost something important, Bas.” He points deeper into the woods. “Help me look for it, please?”

Basil scoffs, though he hops off his bike and parks it. “Could have said it earlier, you Gremlin.”

He swerves on Zayn on reflex, but it seems for nothing, as no kick ever comes. And maybe it’s a feint and Zayn will kick his shin when he drops his guard, but no. No kick ever comes. He’s simply left with the view of Zayn skipping further into the woods.

Basil frowns. “All right, then.”

They search for nearly an hour. Rummaging through bushes, and even climbing trees. It doesn’t help that Zayn doesn’t know how to describe his belonging. _“You’ll know when you see it,”_ is as good as Basil gets of a description. It also earns him a few scratches from branches and thorns, yet he never stops searching.

“I reckon is a bit further in,” Zayn says, pointing forwards. Evening approaches and visibility is rather limited. “I think we’re very close!”

“I won’t ask what you were doing here... _for now_.”

Basil presses forwards. The bushes here are so thick, he can’t even see where he steps—

Ground disappears from under his feet. He barely reacts in time to hang to the cliff. It forces to use his injured hand, too. Below, he can only see more bushes and a steep hill. Where has the guardrail gone? He’s positive there used to be one around these parts.

“Are you all right, Bas?”

Basil strains his neck to look up, only to find Zayn smiling down on him. Zayn’s foot taps dangerously close to his injured hand. The same hand keeping him from plummeting to cuts and broken bones.

Zayn grins wider, and then there’s a sole stomping Basil fingers. “Let me help you, brother.”

Basil’s fingers can’t support his weight and the pressure, and he finally drops.

#

“Styles said you wanted to see me.”

Never before has Zayn been more glad about seeing Payne. Or glad in general. There’s a chance it won’t happen ever again, too. It doesn’t matter how Harry has arranged this encounter, either. All that matters is that Payne brings his compass with him, and right now that’s Zayn’s best chance of finding Basil in time.

“My brother! You need to help me find him!” Zayn cries, fisting at Payne’s shirt. He’s just felt a sharp pain through his heart that can’t be good. “There’s a card! A card is trying to—”

“Oi, oi, oi! Calm down! I can’t understand you like that!” Payne scolds. If his tone is harsh, his grip on Zayn’s forearms are surprisingly the exact opposite. “Where’s your brother? What happened?”

Zayn takes a shaky breath in. He’s still processing his fortune, and everything it’s revealed to him, in fact. The cards that have awakened out there know about him, about his family and friends. Right now, something has its sights on his brother, and he doesn’t know where to find him. He’s sensed a strange presence, but now it’s gone.

“Oi! Are you listening?”

“A card! A card’s after my brother,” Zayn says, ignoring the question. He leans in, his face buried in Payne’s shoulder, letting a tear rolls down. “Help me find it, _please_. It’s gonna do something bad! I know! It’s going to ki—”

“It’s all right.”

Zayn’s breath gets caught in his throat. There’s a hand on his back he could easily mistake for someone trying to catch his attention in the street. It’s mechanical, reluctant, but also oddly comforting. Maybe not for the gesture, but for Payne’s words.

“I’ll help you find that massive prick.”

Well, not _these_ words in particular.

“Calm down and breathe, all right?” Payne lifts Zayn back to his original height, shaking him by his shoulders. “You’re _not_ giving up. You’re stubborn like a mule, remember?”

Zayn scoffs, then wipes at his eyes. “You suck at comforting people...”

“I just didn’t want snot on my top,” Payne replies, readying his compass for the incantation. “Clean up your face, Malik.”

There’s nothing more to do than wait for him to locate the card, and— _hopefully_ —Basil, too.

“The Imperial king of the gods presides over all directions: metal, wood, water, fire, earth, thunder, wind, lightning,” he recites. “Whirling blade of lightning heed my call!”

A beam of light shoots deep into the woods. Zayn’s legs carry him before his mind can react. He waddles through bushes and ducks under branches. The further he goes in, the harder it is to navigate the vegetation, and scratches pile over his limbs. He doesn’t hear, nor sees anything else that’s not the rustling of leaves and the thread guiding him.

“Wait!” Payne shouts, yanking at Zayn’s arm. Probably has called him for some time now, since he has his usual scowl back on. “Look where you’re going, you prat! Look!”

A breeze from below is what keeps Zayn from arguing. Ahead of them, the beam from Payne’s compass curves downwards in a right angle.

“Focus too much on something, and you lose sight of everything else,” Payne warns, releasing his arm. “I told you to calm down, didn’t I?”

Zayn swallows hard, and nods. Just this time, he’ll overlook the insult.

#

Basil tries pushing himself up, with his back to the cliff. A jolt courses through his right ankle, and brings him back to a knee. He squeezes it, and thankfully it’s not broken, or at least there’s no visible bone. His vision is blurry, though, so he can’t be too sure.

“Are you okay?” a smiling Zayn asks. “Looks like you’re in pain.”

Basil shakes his head. A bad decision, since it’s already heavy from the fall.

“Let’s find what you lost, so you can go home,” he says, wincing as he pushes himself up again. Once more, he loses the battle, and slides down the rocky wall, falling on his arse. “Just— can you stop using Gremlin’s form? It makes it seem he’s died.”

Zayn’s smile falters. “You knew I wasn’t him?”

Basil snorts, and just this suffices to send his head spinning. He closes his eyes to keep the world rotating so fast that he can’t keep up.

“I’ve known him his entire... life. I know... you’re not from here...” His voice grows slurry with each word. “Sorta like _Daadi_...”

And Basil wants to say more, explain why he’s helped this wandering spirit. But then, darkness swallows him.

#

“Hold on tight,” Zayn instructs, after placing Payne’s hands on his hips.

Fly takes them to the bottom of the cliff. A bruised Basil sits against it, unmoving. If he’s breathing, Zayn can’t tell from this distance. Zayn sprints to his brother, catching a bobbing head in his hands.

“Bas...”

“He’s alive. I don’t see any big wounds,” Payne confirms, taking his middle and index fingers off Basil’s neck. “He needs to get checked up, though.”

Zayn rests his forehead against Basil’s.

“Don’t scare me like tha’,” he croaks, fresh tears welling his eyes up. The bind around his heart since reading his fortune finally loosens up. “Take care of him for me, please,” he adds, this time to Payne.

Zayn stands up holding his staff out. There’s a creak of twigs, and then someone steps forth. None other than himself, but dressed in his school uniform. This second self has a forlorn expression, and doesn’t hold eye contact, staring at his feet instead.

It’s Zayn’s chance to attack.

“Windy!”

Windy’s gentle breeze goes through the second Zayn, who neither flinches, nor tries to dodge.

“I’ll try another one,” Zayn says, chucking a second card upwards. “Watery!”

Like Windy, Watery passes through the second Zayn as if it’s nothing. Zayn tightens his grip on his staff. He gets that Windy is perhaps too gentle for an attack, but for Watery to not work? He should have brought Kero with him.

“What you’re doing?!” Payne yells. “You won’t capture a special card before you know what it is!”

 _A special card?_ Zayn has a few of those, like Illusion and Silent. Indeed, those aren’t cards acquired through fight. For Illusion, he had to guess what it showed him wasn’t real. With Silent, he had to project his shadow with Shadow to capture it from a distance, since it reacts to sounds and bans anyone around it.

Special cards are simpler, but also _trickier_.

 _Think, Malik._ He closes his eyes, recalling his fortune. _A card associated to Shadow, Watery and Illusion._

As much as Zayn racks his brain for a common point, he can’t come up with one. He buffs, and has to tighten his grip to keep himself from shaking. He must put an end to this. This thing can’t go around hurting more of his loved ones.

“I can’t think of anything!” he shouts.

“I can’t think of anything!”

Zayn opens his eyes. The second time, although in his voice, doesn’t come from his own mouth. He stares at the second Zayn, who now mimics his very instance, holding an invisible staff.

Zayn frowns. “Wha’ are you—”

The second Zayn frowns. “Wha’ are you—”

 _It’s mimicking me._ Zayn nibbles on his bottom lip, and as expected, the second Zayn imitates him. It’s then that pieces fall into place. It replicates everything one does, like a shadow would. Has no defined shape, just like water. And like an illusion, it’s not something that can be touched, something real.

“You’re the Mirror card, aren’t ya?”

Light swallows the second Zayn, and from it merges a girl of long, pastel green hair and wings of glass shards. Her white robes are as long as her hair, covering her from the neck below. In her hands she carries a circular mirror with a handle on each side, and a tassel on each handle.

The girl flies over to Basil. Payne readily gets between them, but she does nothing. She stares at Basil with an even sadder expression than she had in Zayn’s form, and a round, tiny glass shard drops from her eye. Then, she flies towards Zayn.

“Return to the guise you're meant to be in!” Zayn twirls his staff over his head, before pointing it at her. “Clow card!”

As a new card descends into his grip, Zayn drops to his knees and wails. There’s no holding back the tears, any more. He doesn’t want to think what could have happened if he hadn’t arrived in time, or if Payne hadn’t helped him. He doesn’t want to, and yet—

“You did great.” Payne’s hand lands on his shoulder, squeezing it. “Come. He needs a doctor.”

#

“Looks worse than Zayn told me, to be honest.”

“Belt up,” Basil retorts. He pricks a slice of papaya and shoves it into Louis’ mouth. “That’s a scratch.”

Yeah, he may say this, but the cast on his foot points otherwise. Likewise, the fact he’s skipped classes in bed today. His back are covered in bruises, too. Fortunately, the fall hasn’t damaged anything else, or affected his head. He’ll live. It’ll just take him a little time to recover.

“What happened to the spirit you helped?” Louis asks, mouth already open for another slice of fruit. Never the kind to refuse food, even when it’s Basil’s. “Think it went home?”

That’s a question Basil himself has. He remembers nothing after asking it to not use Zayn’s appearance. Rather, he doesn’t remember anything besides some crying and an apology. He’s almost sure it hadn’t been Zayn’s voice, but again, he had been unconscious at the time.

“I want to believe so, yeah.” He feeds Louis again. “It hasn’t caused Gremlin more trouble.”

Louis holds the back of his hand to his mouth, hiding it as he laughs. “It won’t kill you to admit you worry about your brother, y’know.”

“Shut it and eat.”

“He’s even brought you food!”

“Might be hazardous. You eat it,” Basil insists.

#

“I can’t believe I missed your brave feats again.” Harry rolls onto his back, placing his wrist to his forehead in a very damsel-in-distress fashion. “Life is meaningless and a prison of flesh we merely inhabit!”

Kero applauds, to which Harry leaps to his feet and bows. For some reason, Zayn feels these two would have a better partnership than him and Kero. There’s so much support there, he thinks they’re just enabling each other, really.

“It was more dangerous than usual. I told ya,” Zayn insists, like he has for the past 15 or so minutes. He wraps his hands in a towel, pressing his hair between his palms. “You’ve seen how Bas is now!”

Harry blows a raspberry. “A price I’m prepared to pay for great footage.”

“But I’m not!” Zayn snarls back.

Gosh. Sometimes, Harry is too stubborn for his own sake. Zayn has already thanked him for ringing Payne. (And here Zayn won’t question his reasons for giving out a Kero mobile— _Kerobile, for short—_ since a prototype of a mobile must be even more expensive.) His support is imperative to those captures, but there’s a limit to how much he should expose himself.

“What matters is nothing too bad happened!” Kero beams, laughing it off like he always does.

Zayn doesn’t know why he even tries with these two, really. However, this latest happenings have sprung a question in his head. Rather, it’s shed new light on something he’d almost forgotten from his and Kero’s first encounter.

“When the seal on the cards is broken, something bad will happen...” he thinks out loud. “Are we talking about the planet exploding? Floods? Earthquakes? Volcanoes?”

“That’s not the only kind of catastrophe that can befall the world.” Kero floats in front of his face. “A calamity for some might not be a calamity for others. It’s more—”

A knock on the door startles them. Kero promptly grows rigid and falls into Zayn’s hands. Harry reaches for the knob, slowly opening it to let Louis’ smile in.

“I’m ready when you are,” Louis tells them, clicking Papa Malik’s scissors.

Zayn sets Kero among his plushies, then drags Harry with him out of his room.

“It’s not about the world ending,” Kero whispers to itself, as the door closes. “For yer gentle heart, it might be worse than that, Zaynie.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> For inquiries on prompts and AUs, reach me @[zeskiyo](https://zeskiyo.tumblr.com/) on tumblr, or @[zeskiverse](https://twitter.com/zeskiverse) on twitter.


	8. Zayn and an Eventful Weekend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zayn juggles a date, a school project, mischievous cards, and a quarrel over the weekend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Accompanying [moodboard](https://zeskiyo.tumblr.com/post/622735147671945216/catch-you-catch-me-by-zeski-language-english).

**VIII**

“Wanna go to the Zoo?”

Payne’s cocked eyebrow only shows he doesn’t believe this proposal more than Zayn himself. Honestly, Zayn doesn’t blame him: it’s hard to find reason in Harry’s plan. But again, 95% of the time it’s hard to find reason in _any_ of Harry’s plans.

Yet, here he is, inviting Payne to go visit the Zoo with him.

"Is this a trap?" Payne asks back, eyes narrowed. "Because I got that card legitimately. I’m not giving it back."

Oh, right. Their most recent venture ended up with Payne getting The Storm. Not the brightest moment in Zayn's career as a Card Captor, but he's not mad, either. He didn't have the courage to dive into a hurricane and disperse it with lightning.

That's not lack of skill; that's called _common sense_. If Payne wants to unnecessarily risk his neck, that's fine. Just don't count on Zayn to do the same.

"Oh, like inviting you somewhere to knock off the Clow Cards you rightfully captured? That’s not _my_ thing." Zayn clicks his tongue, raising his eyebrows. "I’m not plotting anything, all right?"

"Why are you—"

"For helping me find Bas tha’ time." Zayn exhales, closing his eyes. The possible scenarios, had they arrived any later, freeze the blood in his veins. "You've saved him twice."

Payne pushes himself off his desk, then slings his bag over his shoulder. Despite the explanation, his sceptical look doesn't falter. Rather the opposite: his brow furrows deeper than usual.

"Cheers, but—" he gives Zayn a plastic, strained smile. "Not really interested in your... _not-an-ambush_."

Zayn blinks, watching Payne cross the door. Well, he's tried. A 'no' means 'no'. He'll respect Payne's wishes and won't push it any more. That's a clear refusal, and he's not going to beg anyone. Doesn't need to, nor wants to. This situation has resolved itself, he reckons.

Till an arm transverses the way, barring Payne from another step.

"I can help you find an outfit, LJ."

There is impeccable timing, and then there's whatever is this Harry always does. As far as Zayn is concerned, this is an underused talent in investigative reporting. _Criminally_ underused.

"A little recreation is essential to keep the mind healthy," Harry continues, leading Payne back inside by the shoulder. “We don’t want to be mentally exhausted, do we?”

Just like Payne's eyebrows indicate, Zayn also fails to recall the moment they've become this close. Perhaps they haven't, indeed. Not that it changes anything for Harry. _Ever._

“Wait. We do?!” Harry frowns, shaking his head. "Well, don't complain when old Zed gets all the cards before you."

After a moment of deliberation, Payne sighs. His answer is easy to deduce, and his reaction a polar opposite to Harry's blossoming grin.

"I'm free tomorrow afternoon," he says, reluctant as if confessing a heinous crime.

Harry wiggles his eyebrows expectantly at Zayn. To avoid providing more fuel to wild thoughts, Zayn nods back. Is it at Payne? Is it at Harry? He’s not sure. It doesn’t matter, either. This denouement pleases Harry, who proceeds to arrange all details at _his own_ discretion.

#

A second glance at his watch tells Zayn he isn't, for a fact, late. If anything there’s six minutes till their agreed time. Payne's bored air makes it seem he's _sixty_ minutes late, but it's not even close.

"Payne?" he calls out in a small voice, tapping Payne's shoulder. "Sorry for the wait."

Zayn blinks at the boy staring at him. His eyes can't refrain from scanning every detail, like slicked up hair and round glasses. There's an instant he considers apologising for approaching the wrong lad.

Payne’s eyes narrow. “What?”

“I, uhh... You look... _different_.” He shakes his head, slapping his own cheeks when Payne cocks an eyebrow. “Not bad or anything. Just... different. A cool sort of different.”

“I don’t like wearing them,” Payne grunts. His middle finger pushes at the bridge of his glasses—with an ease that can’t be newly mastered—as he turns away. “I’m here. Where are we going?”

Well, it’s a Zoo. What else to do, besides walking around, taking pics, and watching the animals? But pointing it out would only create friction, and Zayn doesn’t feel like arguing with _Clark Kent_ today. He better be careful to not say it aloud it, either— their interactions prove Payne won’t like it.

“Just follow me,” he replies.

#

Harry’s barely-contained squeals get him a bunch of odd looks. He might not mind them, but when too many people look, it also draws Zayn’s attention, putting him a step closer to getting found out. And he knows Zayn _will_ bail out, and that he cannot have. He’ll be stealthiest he can and get his footage. No matter what.

“Wouldn't it be easier to join them?” Kero lowers its customised shades, looking up at him from his coat’s pocket. “Less stressful for ye, too.”

Maybe. All this ducking and hiding is the most exercise Harry has done outside P.E. class. It’s gotten tiresome after the first five minutes, really. Every time he’s almost found out, it means interactions he cannot film, therefore footage he’s lost.

However, Harry also knows his presence would shift his friends’ interactions. Because they might not call it by its name, but a date is still a _date_. He hasn’t helped Zayn with a cute outfit for nothing.

For once, he wants these two to hang out without school or magic involved. He wouldn’t have planned it any other time, but lately he’s seen them argue less. They just need a little push to get on proper friendly terms, he reckons.

And he’ll gladly become the embodiment of that little push.

“They need some time alone.” He smiles at Kero, scratching its head with a forefinger. “That’s how people bond and grow close together.”

Kero pushes its tiny shades back on. “I don’t think Zaynie should bond with that Puppy Brat.”

“He’s not _that_ bad, y’know.”

Just as Harry closes his mouth, he locates Zayn again, next to a tank of tangs. Payne keeps gesticulating, clearly giving directions. Zayn keeps shaking his head, his camera pointed in Payne’s direction and arguing back.

Kero stares blankly at Harry.

“They’re... getting better at it,” he says with a strained smile.

#

After turtles, tangs, giraffes, hippos, sloths, crocodiles, emus, anacondas, and peacocks, Payne’s camera is pretty much full. There’s room for a few more pics that, in a surprising turn of events, he saves for later, on Zayn’s recommendation.

“It’s almost time.” Zayn taps his watch, then points to a sign that reads _Elephants_. “You’re gonna love this!”

“You said the same thing about that atrocious pic.”

Zayn sticks his tongue out. “Next time take it yourself.”

“Give Mirror to me, and I will,” Payne retorts, quirking a defying eyebrow.

Whatever. It’s not worth the hassle. The new baby elephant can paint stuff, and Zayn _has_ to see it. He’s heard that sometimes someone in the crowd gets chosen to have their portrait done, too. Hardly a Mona Lisa, but what’s cool is that it’s painted by an elephant.

Not that Payne can even pretend to be excited about it.

“Actually, I forgot I had to do something,” he tells Zayn, consulting his watch. “It was a lovely day. Cheers, mate!”

If Zayn hadn’t been suspicious before, that ‘lovely day’ would do it. Sure, this can’t be considered the worst day in their lives, but to go as far as call it ‘lovely’? While making that constipated face? It’s hard to not assume anything.

The timing is too convenient, too. Because not a full minute that Payne _blooming_ flees, screams come from the opposite direction.

 _This feeling..._ Zayn clutches his key, staring in the direction he senses the strange presence. He fishes Illusion from his pocket because he’ll need to keep people away to investigate what’s happening.

So much for a peaceful weekend.

#

“Kero?” Zayn blinks. “Wha’ are you—”

“Save it for later,” it says, landing on his head. “Catch that thing before everything’s destroyed!”

Only that there’s nothing to catch. Nothing that’s visible, at least. Zayn’s positive—and it’s nice to have confirmation—he senses magic nearby. He can’t pinpoint till it moves, but by the time it moves, he might be unable to react timely.

“It’s coming!” Kero yells.

“Jump!”

Tiny wings sprout from Zayn’s ankles and he takes into the sky with a leap. The spot he’d stood mere seconds ago gets crushed under thin air. The crater left is definitely of a big impact, as is the sound and cloud dust it raises.

From a branch, Zayn gawks at what could very well be a UFO crash site. Minus the UFO, the alien, the spaceship, and just about anything other than bloody air.

“Wha’ the—”

Another impact. And one more, and another one. It’s now headed in his direction.

 _Fuck_.

One thing for sure: that’s not air. That destructive power outclasses Storm, an actual tornado. Is there another wind-based card besides that one and Windy? Zayn could guess ‘Gale’ or similar, though that seems a bit redundant. And since when air drops like a cannonball?

“Special card?” he asks over his shoulder, more to check his distance from what chases them than to seek Kero’s confirmation. “Brill. Just _brill_.”

Though not as brilliant as the card’s idea of flinging an entire tree at them. A longer branch grazes Zayn’s left leg, forcing them to land in the card path. The ground collisions close in, shaking the entire Zoo with its might.

“Yer bleeding!” Kero shouts. It would seem it’s the one with a gash on its shin, instead of Zayn. “This is bad! This is bad! This is _really_ bad!”

But there’s no way Zayn can leap away, and even on Fly he’d have trouble balancing without a support for his injured leg. Also, he doesn’t want to give into despair, but the invisible card is two explosions (such a weird metric) from him.

“You’re...” he trails off, pointing his staff forwards.

Another explosion. It’s now one explosion away from him.

“Might? Strength? Power? Muscle? Stamina?” he lists hurriedly, then braces himself for the impact.

It never comes, though.

He cracks an eye open. “I’m... alive?”

In front of him descends a toddler girl, around four in size, of pastel red skin and clothes. Her eyes are ample and candid, and from her pointy ears dangle two oversized orbs of the same kind as the ones tailing her long hair ribbons.

She gives Zayn a large grin, then makes a pirouette. When she halts, she makes a _plié_ reverence, pinching on each side of the frilly tutu worn over her baggy, pleated trousers.

It’s hard to process that an _infant_ has nearly killed him, Zayn reckons.

“That’s Power,” Kero says, and somehow he sounds even more apprehensive. “Loves to show off its strength.”

Yeah, but... why a Zoo? Wouldn’t it be easier to find, say, a bodybuilder competition? Or those guys that lift like triple their own weight. Granted, it’s uncertain if toddlers are allowed in those places. Zayn wants to believe they’re not. Mostly because _he_ might not be allowed in those, least of all a _toddler_.

Power points to some trees and grins at Zayn again.

“Uh-oh.” Kero takes its shades off.

Zayn slowly turns to it. “I don’t like tha’ ‘uh-oh’ of yours.”

“Yer gonna dislike even more what’s to come,” it assures him.

And _oh_ he does. Zayn would go as far as saying he _hates_ it. He absolutely despises it. Loathing beyond human comprehension. The moment Kero translates Power’s actions into a strength contest, he’s sure he doesn’t like any of it. Even worse when it’s a _tree tossing_ contest.

“How am I gonna chuck a bloody tree?” he hisses through gritted teeth. “Can’t even uproot tha’ thing!”

Honestly. What ever happened to the good old days of binding a card to capture it? Those were the days. Unappreciated days Zayn would give anything to have back. Or almost anything.

Power goes first, of course. Her stubby arms can’t even hug the tree, yet she uproots it like she’s weeding a garden. She spins it around, and then lets it fly in a proper Olympic way. Kero and Zayn exchange a look whilst she giggles and claps her hands together like a seal.

“It’s yer turn.” Kero swallows hard. “Good luck, Zaynie.”

Will luck even help, really? Unless a certain amount of luck equals a miracle, it’ll do little for Zayn. Luck he needs for a lottery; not to perform a superhuman feat. He'll need more than just everyday luck for this. He'll need a bloody tornado to rip that thing off the ground.

Still, Zayn braces himself and steps to the tree. He bends his knees slightly and hugs it. Here goes nothing.

Except that after a good five -second effort, and a lot of tension in his legs, the tree comes out. Rather, it _shoots_ out of the ground, like a rocket. The recoil knocks Zayn on his arse, but what's important is that his tree flies past Power’s and destroys a restaurant.

He gaps at the destruction he’s caused. “I did... tha’?”

“Do it now!”

Zayn blinks himself out of his daze. To his right, a distraught Power wobbles, frantically rubbing the back of her hand over her eyes. She's not taking defeat too well, it seems.

“Return to the humble guise that you’re meant to be in!” Zayn picks his staff up, twirling as he switches it to his right hand. “Clow Card!”

A carpet of light appears under Power, and she dissolves and swirls down into it. As it shrinks to a smaller size, Zayn kneels to pick it up. On the card, the depiction of a little girl in spiked wristbands features above the lore that reads _The Power_.

“Well done, Zaynie.” Kero pats his head. “Not sure how you did it, but a victory is a victory.”

Zayn glances at the card in his hand. “Tha’ would be two of us, I reckon.”

As Zayn recalls Illusion and flees, a second figure watches him leap away before the Zoo's staff catch him there.

“Now we're even.” Payne swats his arm to the side, returning his sword to a key chain. He also tucks away Time and Storm in his card holster, whilst wiping sweat off his brow. “Still too much strain to use it with another card.”

#

After dinner, it's time to resume working on his model for next Monday. Or, as he likes to call it, _‘a practical nightmare for grade,’_ because that’s what it is. Whoever decided foam boards should be used in school projects should be arrested. Same for teachers who hand out such assignments.

Working with styrofoam is _ridiculous_ , to put it mildly. You have to use a box cutter, which isn’t the safest thing in the world, and then you struggle to glue things together. Because, guess what, the blooming thing doesn’t stick to anything with your everyday glue. Not that it really does with its specific glue, either, so it’s just a glorified scam to sell you stuff you don’t need.

And don’t get Zayn started on the frustration that’s trying to get anything in place. It’s more than enough to get him considering taking a surprise maths test. And he happens to do _tragically_ with those.

So, given all these factors, of course Zayn freezes up when he finds his half-done model is now _whole-destroyed_.

The two walls have collapsed into the mini bedroom. The bed has become a slope with one its legs broken off— two torn pieces of foam at Zayn’s feet. Chest of drawers and wardrobe have also tumbled, but otherwise seem fine. They’re also just slabs of foam boards with doors drawn on them, so there’s hardly flimsy parts to damage like the bed.

Zayn picks the pieces off the place. “Wha’ in the—”

Slowly, he pries the wall from his bedroom model. Underneath the ‘curtain’ for a window he hasn’t carved out yet, he finds a spread-eagled Kero snoring its life away.

There’s little to no thought input between snatching Kero up and shaking it awake. The effort put into this bloody thing—he didn’t want to work on, in the first place—is _gone_. Worse than that: he must redo the little he already had. He’s back at the start line.

“Wha’ did you do tha’ for?!”

“Hey, Zaynie.” Kero yawns, rubbing a balled up paw over its right eye. “Wanted to try me new bed out. It’s pretty good!”

Zayn, for one, doesn’t think it’s lying. There’s a palpable excitement in its voice, and no traces of guilt. Probably because Kero doesn’t realise what it’s done, least of all that it’s destroyed a day of work.

However, rage is blinding and screams over rational thoughts. Instead of an explanation, Zayn offers accusations and glares, and naturally it doesn’t go over too well. Kero is next apologising— _trying to_ , if Zayn can own up his unreasonability—and then he’s throwing accusations.

“My life was nice before you came in!” Zayn roars back.

These words drop like a boulder to a lake, and the ripple it causes drown their argument.

Kero’s little wings sag, and then a fire burns in its beady eyes. It shoves Zayn off in the face with all four legs, then opens the window with a flick of its glowing paw.

“Be happy,” it says, turning to look at a bewildered Zayn over its shoulder. “I’m giving yer nice life back to ye!”

Zayn’s eyes grow large as plates. “Kero, no! Wait—”

Too late. The little critter flies into the night, slamming the window shut with another flick of its tiny paw.

Zayn’s first impulse is to chase it. Yes, he’s angry, but he’s also aware that Kero doesn’t know much of the outside world besides what it’s seen with him. The only other people it knows are Harry and Payne, and he doubts it can reach either’s house. (It wouldn’t willingly go to Payne’s, even if it knew the location, anyway.)

The door opens as Zayn reaches for the knob. He takes a step back to avoid getting hit, and to let Basil’s head peek in.

“What’s all this ‘Kero this’, ‘Kero that’?”

“I’m...” Zayn glances around for some help. He needs an excuse that’s mildly convincing in the next 5 seconds, lest his brother enters prying mode. “I’m working on my Spanish project,” he says, catching a glance of the destroyed bedroom replica. “I was just practicing. _Te quiero mucho_. See?”

Basil cocks an eyebrow.

“I don’t know why you’re practising ‘I love you’, but you better not be thinking of saying it to any boys,” he warns. _Gosh_ , he acts like Zayn just told him he’s going to elope or something. “Keep it down, Gremlin. I’m revising some stuff.”

“Quit calling me ‘Gre—”

Basil shuts down any attempt at a witty comeback with thorough hair ruffling and slips into Zayn’s bedroom. He throws himself in bed, resuming his reading and throwing vigilant glances at Zayn. For how long he plans on staying, only Basil himself knows.

As downpour starts outside, Zayn begs the cloudy night sky to keep Kero safe for tonight, now that he can’t go look for it. Tomorrow morning, though, he’s going to find it. No matter what it takes.

Even if it means asking for Payne’s help.

#

“Are you okay?”

Kero turns on its side, trying to escape the insistent finger to poke his tummy. How dare Zayn wake him up after all he’s said to him? At the very least, Zayn should start with an apology. Then, they could talk like civilised people. Or like civilised people and magical creature. He only knows this way of waking him up _isn’t_ that.

“Yer words still hurt,” he mumbles in response, folding two paws under his head. “But pancakes could fix that.”

“Mama said I can’t make that.”

 _Since when?_ Also, now that Kero thinks about it, Zayn’s voice sounds much higher-pitched. Much different from its usual.

Kero flips on his opposite side. He opens his eyes to curious brown eyes that are much darker than Zayn’s. The round, chubby face to accompany them is also not very Zayn-like.

Not Zayn-like _at all_.

“Hi, I’m Akane!” The little girl in pigtails of silky, straight dark hair grins, revealing a few missing teeth. Pretending to be a plushie doesn’t work, as she steps closer, seizing it up. “I promise I'm not mean! What’s your name?”

Kero sighs. “I’m Kerobe— I’m Kero, Akane. Nice to meet ye.”

Akane’s parents aren't home, which works well for keeping a low profile. Not many adults would take their toddler’s word on meeting _“a fairy”_ —as Akane calls Kero—but a little caution can’t hurt. Akane lives in a building with other families below _and_ above her, and that’s about twice as many ears as Zayn’s brother’s.

For the most part, Kero simply watches Akane go about her day. In the morning, she watches the telly till lunchtime, when she picks a yellow lunchbox prepared for her. That’s also when the phone rings; her mum to check on her.

There’s a hushing forefinger to the lips exchanged between her and Kero, and not a single mention of him to her mother.

After this, she does light house chores, like washing her lunchbox and plastic cutlery, or vacuuming the lounge. It’s the weekend, and if she’s unlike Zayn, homework is already finished to give her free time to play doll house.

“No, silly! You’re the kitty!” she tells Kero, rubbing a balled up fist against her cheek. “Like this!”

“I get ye.” Kero flies in circles around her head, as if walking on air on all fours. “I’m a cat.”

Akane claps frantically. She points out that _“kitties don’t fly”_ and giggles to herself. Despite this, she shares her dream of flying to _“see Papa up there.”_

Kero’s heart drops to its stomach. He’d planned on leaving during her kip, but maybe he can stay till her mum returns.

“Flying is not that—”

“Look! Sana is flying!” she exclaims.

Indeed, Sana—her doll—starts floating. As do Sana’s house, Sana’s dog, Sana’s shoes, and Akane herself.

 _This presence..._ Kero searches the source of this magic. Outside the balcony, it finds a winged beach ball floating.

“I’m going to see Papa, Little Fairy!”

“Akane—”

The beach ball glows lilac. The sliding door clamps Kero against the wall, whilst Akane and her toys float into the afternoon skies.

“Akane!” he shouts, trying to wiggle himself free. Akane has already disappeared from view, and the longer he stays here, the farther she’ll be carried off. “Sorry, Akane’s mum!”

Kero focuses his magic to shove the door closed, and of course the push shatters the glass. He’ll ask Zayn later to explain to Akane’s mum that it’s not Akane’s fault.

Zayn... this is one time that Kero would love to have him around.

 _There she is._ He soars into the sky at maximum speed. Float has taken Akane already too high for her to remain conscious. She’s drifting— like an oarless boat in the sea. _I have to catch her._

But altitude also puts strain on Kero’s tiny body, and soon his wings grow heavy and his speed drops. He’s so close. Closer than a moment ago, any way. Yet, Akane keeps growing farther and farther from him. That burst of magic has taken more out of him than he’d imagined.

“Akane... Don’t...” he begs, the day starting to fade into black.

Kero’s body collides with something. He’s _sure_ he’s hit something, even though the ground should be dozens of metres away. Nor has the ground ever felt this warm and gentle.

“Zaynie?” he asks upon opening his eyes.

Zayn promptly tucks him in his hoodie, zipping up to Kero’s neck.

“We’ll talk later,” Zayn replies instead, giving him a curt nod. “Tha’ little girl is floating away!”

“It’s Float.” Kero points a stubby arm in Akane’s direction. “Not really ill-intentioned, but... its pranks can be a tad too much.”

The next moments barely register with Kero. Zayn zooms after float, and seals it in one go. To use the sealing spell he has to undo Fly, and that’s when all three of them plummet to a free fall. Whatever else happens in sequence remains a blur. All Kero knows is that he wakes up in Akane's lounge, both of them unscathed.

“Yer a good lass, Akane,” he whispers, petting her head.

It leaves through the balcony door—now fixed—to find Zayn hovering outside.

“Let’s go home, yeah?” Zayn suggests, to which Kero agrees. Not much point in running away again, and he can’t afford to stay with common people if other cards come for him.

“Yeah.”

#

Last night’s fight seems forgotten till Zayn brings it up, just before they go to bed. Kero half expects a lecture, but instead gets an apology. Zayn also confesses asking Puppy Brat for help, and knowing this is more than enough to ensure his sincerity. Kero also apologises for ruining Zayn’s craft, and they share a hug.

“I still have something for ya.” Zayn quirks his eyebrows, placing Kero on his desk. “Close your eyes. No peeking, all right?”

Intrigued, Kero complies. He uncovers his eyes on Zayn’s signal, and then rubs them again to make sure he’s not seeing things.

The bottom drawer of Zayn’s desk has been emptied, and now there’s a tiny bed, chest of drawers, and a rug on it. The bed comes with covers and a pillow, and a few candy shaped cushions decorate the place— truly a miniature bedroom.

“Me room?”

“Haz made me realise you like having your own stuff.” Zayn scoops him up, then places him in the small bed. Even more comfortable than it looks, Kero notices, which is already plenty. “I should know; I used to share a bedroom with Bas.”

His own room. Kero doesn’t hesitate in pulling the covers on and tucking himself tight. This is his bed, his pillow, and his blanket. He beams at Zayn, fluffing out his pillow one last time.

“Night, Kero.”

“Goodnight, Zaynie.”

As the drawer closes, Kero smiles drowsily. He now has his own room to come back to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> For inquiries on prompts and AUs, reach me @[zeskiyo](https://zeskiyo.tumblr.com/) on tumblr, or @[zeskiverse](https://twitter.com/zeskiverse) on twitter.


	9. Zayn and the Haunted Castle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zayn faces unexpected challenges during a school trip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Accompanying [moodboard](https://zeskiyo.tumblr.com/post/639057469067378688/catch-you-catch-me-by-zeski-language-english).

**IX**

“I ask again: what am I doing here?”

Zayn glances sideways to find that Payne stares at him, question still hanging off his lips, and bushy eyebrows knitted. Although he’s heard the question, Zayn has more or less tuned out the rest of the talk, watching the scenery pass them by. Thankfully (or not), Harry leaps to his rescue.

“Because _Chastity_ here didn’t want to be alone.” A curly head pops from behind the bus seat in front of Payne’s. “If I can’t sit with Zed; it’s natural another mate sits with him.”

“Niall couldn’t come with us,” Chas adds, though not without bumping her shoulders into Harry’s. She gives Payne a small, apologetic smile. “ _He_ told me you were okay with that.”

Harry clutches at his imaginary pearls, as if accused of a heinous crime. “Of course he is! Everyone wants to sit beside a cute boy!”

Payne snorts. “I doubt it.”

Perhaps the snide isn’t really audible, given that Harry doesn’t argue back. Maybe because he’s too busy convincing Chas of his theory. Whether just murmurs, it catches Zayn’s attention, and then it’s his turn to stare at Payne.

“Am I that hideous?” he asks Payne, more like an afterthought. It truly slips past his lips, like a lapse of his tongue. The tension between his own eyebrows goes unnoticed till Payne meets his gaze, wide-eyed. “You can be honest,” he adds.

“I-I’m not saying you’re not—” Payne’s voice comes to almost a whisper, “—cute or whatever. I’m just saying—”

“—that he _is_ cute. As you should!” Harry supplies, grinning from ear to ear.

Payne glares back. “I’ll remember this, Styles!”

“During your wedding speech, I hope.”

“White, Styles, on your seats, please.” Mr. Terada’s serene voice instructs, to which Harry complies, though not without winking at Zayn first. Chas is already back to her seat. “Everyone sit properly; we’re almost there.”

Indeed, in just a few minutes, an imposing, ancient structure greets them, along with a pair of smiley women. Mr. Terada oversees the arrival of every student, and once they all climb out, they start forming groups of three. Although Harry suggests they invite Payne, it’s an offended Chas to join their numbers, instead.

“Following our schedule, we’re visiting an excavation site now,” Mr. Terada says, his eyes sweeping over the multitude of faces. He doesn’t seem to expect Payne’s energetic _“yes!” mor_ e than anyone else. “Every group is to receive an expedition kit and assign tasks to their members.”

One of the smiley ladies points to the table beside them. “One person per group, please.”

Zayn finds himself shoved forwards before he can ask which of them should go.

Every trio receives the same basic supplies: a Polaroid camera, a sketchbook, and a small case with tiny mallets, picks, and brushes. The camera and the sketchbook are obvious choices, and by elimination Zayn receives the tools. A few metres away Devine and Anulika argue over who should get the camera, whilst Payne hogs the little tool case.

This _passion_ for archaeology somehow reminds Zayn of his own mum.

#

It’s not an authentic excavation site; Zayn has visited one with his mum before. Those are usually bigger than this, and have more complex landscape and machinery around. Sometimes, it even involves ladders and dams to contain the mud. Still, this is a suitable start for those without the same privilege of the true experience.

The guides, however, seem authentic. They use many of Mama Malik’s technical terms, and not a question goes unanswered. The burly lady in an oversized safari hat, in particular, has this glint to her eye, and _lights up_ every time someone raises a hand.

“I know some of you are dying to get started, so I won’t extend myself.” Her gaze sweeps over every trio, not by coincidence stopping at Devine’s. Half the questions she’s answered today have come from Payne. “Let’s do it, then!”

Their groups spread over the field. It doesn’t take too long till the first chalices and broken artefacts emerge. Their work is to take photos of their findings, identify them, and then take notes.

What really happens is that Harry has Zayn hold every article and then Chas comes up with a small blurb after they read about it on the reference guide. Zayn, for the most part, just digs and smiles for the pictures.

“Why am I always posing for a camera when you’re around?”

Harry draws an arch over his own lips with two fingers. “‘Cos it’s my mission to have your feats well-documented.”

“I’m just glad that I don’t have to dirty my hands,” Chas says, sketching the 3/4 of a plate Zayn holds up.

Zayn lets out a tired sigh. “Every new project makes me reconsider our whole friendship.”

#

Whereas lunchtime ends, their tour through the castle begins. Lupita and Alice—their guides—take them down halls, and into chambers. Every new room has at least one actor that, when prompted, will impart them with historical facts. They’re guards, knights. Maids, cooks, prisoners, and an assortment of royalty titles, too.

Most characters are pretty ordinary, but some fall on the barmy side of life. Reason why a few jump scares happen from time to time. These are all living people playing dead people, though, so Zayn can handle it.

“Come, young ones!” A severely hunched-backed man beckons them, a lantern dangling by his head. He stands by what resembles the beginning of a pitch-black corridor.

“If you think you can come back alive, come test your courage!” the man says.

Maybe Zayn _can’t_ handle it, after all.

On instinct, his arm loops with Harry’s. He doesn’t know they’re going in pairs, yet. When Lupita asks the rules to ‘Grave keeper Jack’, partial relief washes over him. He won’t wander into a potentially haunted dungeon by himself, at least.

“All right, Zed?”

“Of course— How can I be remotely all right?” he hisses back to Harry, also in a whispered tone, but much more frantic. Upon receiving a lantern from Alice’s helper, he nods at the guy. “Can’t we go a week _without_ poking the dead?!”

Alice’s answer is a resounding _no_. Okay, she doesn’t say _that_ , because she doesn’t hear his question. All of her actions, however, make it obvious she wouldn’t concede, even if she had heard him.

To be fair, the task is rather simple, if he—like everyone else present—ignores context. They walk a straight line, reach a stone altar, light their candle, and place it on the stone. Only one way in, and only one way out. There’s also two other girls waiting for them at the end of the trail.

“In case something goes wrong,” Lupita adds, unknowingly agreeing with Zayn that this _isn’t_ a good idea.

He tugs at Harry’s arm. “Let’s... not be the first ones, okay?”

The first duo goes in. The second and the third, too, once three minutes have passed between each of them. Only when the fourth duo ventures into the dungeon, Lupita and Alice exchange a weird look. Mr. Terada also notices it, joining them away from the students.

Chas approaches them with large side steps.

“Don’t you lads find this weird?”

 _Oh, boy._ _Here she comes._ Zayn inhales deeply.

“No sign of Craig and JP.” She adjusts her glasses on her face. “They were the first ones to go in, but they’re not here yet.”

“It’s been 10 minutes already,” Harry confirms, eyes to his watch. “I thought they said it’s a short walk? Maybe something happened?”

Chas’ eyes grow wide in realisation.

No, no, no, _no_. Zayn knows this glint, this grin. Whenever these two show up, together, words follow them. Many words that defy logic and common sense.

Chas clasps her hands to her chest. “You think this place is haun—”

“They probably lost their candle and are searching for it, _Chastity_.”

Zayn notices Devine and Payne heading his way, and his chest unwinds. Intentional or not, this will save him from an urban legend or ghost story.

But then, Zayn’s gratitude turns short-lived, as Payne leans close and whispers to him.

“Focus. There’s something in there.”

Naturally, it doesn’t escape Harry’s ears, either. Next thing Zayn knows, Payne, Devine and Mr. Terada all go in. Lupita keeps trying to contact her crew in the dungeon on her radio, whilst Alice goes to fetch help.

“If it’s _you-know-what,_ shouldn’t we go in, too?” Harry asks, once Chas joins Anulika and her friends. “LJ is already there.”

Well, Zayn has sensed _something_. Whatever it is, it’d been faint from the start, and disappeared before he could identify it. It _could_ be a Clow Card. Would one be a county away from their home town, though?

If it is, Lupita and her colleagues can’t deal with that.

“Wait, Zed! Where—”

“Bathroom!” he replies, both to Harry and to Chas approaching them. He hugs his own stomach, then grabs Harry’s wrist. “I really need to go now!”

Harry stands watch by the door. Once Zayn has peered into every stall, he turns his key to staff. Two cards he fishes from his pocket: Sleep and Windy.

“I can’t think of anything better,” he tells his own reflection above the sinks.

The mandala of Clow lights up under his feet.

“Cards created by Clow, grant our friends a safe and peaceful slumber,” he slams his staff down, pinning both cards to the floor. “Sleep! Windy!”

A small, powder blue faerie with a feathered wing for an ear, and a cream winged woman fly out of the bathroom. They dance around each other in the air. Fine, glittery dust sprinkled over Zayn’s classmates knocks them to a fall cushioned by pockets of air.

Although questionable, Zayn can’t deny Sleep’s efficiency: everyone’s out cold. Some even snore.

“Now we join LJ,” Harry says, and surprisingly (or not, really) he carries a camcorder.

Zayn holds a hand up, two cards descending into his grip. “You should stop tha’ before he wrings your neck.”

A small, stone altar awaits them at the end of the corridor, as do a few colourful candles. All unlit. No trace of anyone around. Not Lupita’s colleagues, nor their colleagues.

Harry holds out his lantern, pointing deep into the room. “Let’s check those cells.”

There Harry goes again, embracing his inner ‘victim in a terror’ film. This is no time for them to split. If someone—or _something_ —here can get Payne, then they _definitely_ shouldn’t split. At the same time, they can cover more ground separately, and the faster they find clues, the faster they can leave.

“I’ll take this one,” Zayn eventually replies, pursing his lips together the next instant.

 _Nothing_. Zayn checks the barrel, under the bed—a slab of wood hanging from the wall by chains—and finds nothing. No reason to linger, then.

“Haz, found any—”

Empty. All Zayn can find in the cell next door is an abandoned camcorder on the floor.

As he reaches for the device, bright smoke floods the cell. It unravels across the floor like a carpet, covering Harry’s camera. The next second, the camcorder is _gone_ , vanished from sight.

“Wha’ the—”

Zayn instinctively leaps away from it. He must get out. _Now_. And he would, if not for the same mist blocking his only way out. A card. He needs a card to dissipate this thing before it touches him.

_“Flames, come forth! Sun!”_

A sudden glare and heat engulfs the small cell. Zayn shields his eyes, barely making out the hand to drag him out. Despite the suddenness, seeing Payne flushes his body with warmth.

Might as well be the fireball from earlier, but yeah.

“It’s a Clow Card.” Payne fishes his compass from under his top. The thread of light that normally pinpoints a card’s location is nowhere to be seen. “It’s almost as if it’s everywhere _..._ or _nowhere_ ,” he supplies, as if reading the question between Zayn’s eyebrows.

“It got Haz!” Zayn gulps some air, lowering his voice to a whisper. Can it even hear them? “At least I _think_ it did.”

The same fate of Josh and the others before them, Payne reports. He’s been trying to locate the card, but it’s remained inactive till Zayn and Harry strolled in.

Zayn swallows at the thought that occurs to him.

“You think... it reacts to people?”

Payne nods. “To numbers, I suppose. It attacked as soon as you _two_ got here.”

Zayn’s hands immediately shoot for Payne’s. Lupita will be back with support. If more people come in, they will only provoke the card further. Harry. He needs to find Harry.

And maybe he squeezes too hard, since Payne shoves him off.

“Wha’ is wrong with ya?” he groans, rubbing his elbow out. “Tha’ hurt, you—”

“Stay calm,” Payne says.

Shrouded in bright mist, Payne’s hand slowly fades away. Of course ‘calm’ is the last thing to expect from Zayn. The terror of Harry and the others’ fate, till now a mystery, becomes clear before his eyes.

_Literally._

“Payne!” He shuffles close to his classmate, sandwiching a steadily cooling hand between his. “Wait, I’ll do something! I’ll…” He glances around for his staff. “Wha’ do I use? Silence? Shield? Mir—”

Ghostly, cold palms squeeze Zayn’s cheeks.

“Stay calm,” Payne repeats, more stern. His brow unfurrows, as he inhales and exhales, till Zayn’s own breathing matches his. “It’s active right now. Focus on finding it.”

Zayn bites the words along with his tongue, studying Payne’s _attempt_ at a smile. Under these circumstances, it’s not as reassuring as the boy imagines it is.

“Before I disappear, you’re gonna find it.” He nods continuously till Zayn mimics him. “Brill. I know you can do it, okay?”

Eyes closed, Zayn clutches his staff to his chest. The scattered Mana, Payne’s, and even his own— they all appear in his mind, colour-coded. A little more focus, and he can see cyan mist clung to Payne’s Mana reading, unravelling like wool.

 _Just a little further... C’mon, Zayn..._ He follows and follows it with his mind. At the end of the hair-width trail, he finds a waning presence under a broken pillar.

“Return to the guise you're meant to be in!” He opens his eyes and dashes in the direction visualised. His staff twirls twice as fast, and he swings it down between his legs mid-jump. “Clow card!”

The thread-like mist spirals into the rectangular light, a new card descending into Zayn’s hand at the end.

He frowns. “The... Erase?”

“Special cards are too problematic.”

Zayn turns around. Behind him, a perfectly solid Payne curls and uncurls long fingers. A smile spreads on Zayn’s face. Overtaken by the sudden lightness on his shoulders, he returns his staff to a key, throwing himself at Payne.

“Oi! Malik!” Payne tries to pry Zayn off, but all his whining only elicits more giggles. Tittering, actually, because the adrenaline rush hasn’t died out yet. “I’m all right! Get off me!”

“Let me know if I’m interrupting anything, boys.”

This is the first time Zayn accepts Harry’s teasing, because it means Harry is safe. He throws himself at Harry this time, hugging his best mate’s neck tightly. He can breathe again.

#

“Why do you keep inviting me to these places?”

“I don’t know. Why do _you_ keep helping me?” Zayn shoots back.

“To collect the cards faster, of course,” Payne replies, not missing a beat. He stares Zayn down for a moment, then resumes his stroll. “Thanks for inviting me, though. It looks really nice.”

Always a sod. Although he can be thoughtful and considerate, by now Zayn has accepted that Payne’s default is _knobhead_.

“Wanker,” Zayn mouths behind his back, before catching up to him.

The city comes alive during the festivities, and therefore it’s Zayn’s favourite season. Strings of light and fairy lights overhead become stars within reach. (Or much more than actual stars in space would be, a shit tonne of light-years away.) Music, flowers and food everywhere.

“Aren’t we looking good this fine evening?”

It shouldn’t surprise Zayn as much, yet he recoils a bit at the camera recording him. He throws a meek wave of hand to the lens, in hopes it’ll be enough footage for Harry. They should enjoy the festival. Eat cakes and this kind of stuff.

As if willed to him, a small slice of banana cake comes into Zayn’s eyeline. He follows the arm holding it, and his face lights up at a familiar smile.

“Bas made this one,” Louis says, bending over to whisper the next part, “He’ll deny it, but he wants you to try it.”

Zayn accepts the slice of a golden brown cake; undoubtedly banana cake. One of Zayn’s favourite cakes. His brother may tease him 95% of their waking time, but can’t deny Basil’s baking skills.

He’s more surprised to find Louis helping _make_ rather than _eat_ food.

A chill runs down Zayn’s spine, as ice shards pointed at his head. He slowly turns around, half-surprised to find himself under Payne’s murderous glare. Well, maybe not _murderous_ , but definitely _hostile_. It’s the same scowl from when they first met. It almost makes Zayn nostalgic.

_Almost._

Louis must notice Zayn shrinking, because he, too, turns to the same direction.

“I’ll bring some for you two, too!” he says, beaming at Harry and Payne.

Payne’s scowl softens into a bashful smile, and he promptly becomes fascinated by his own shoes. The only sign that he acknowledges Louis’ words is a rather shy nod. Harry on the other hand, greets Louis with a small reverence and thanks the thoughtful offer.

“I don’t bake for _brats_ , Lou.”

Speaking of Basil...

 _Oh, gosh._ Zayn exhales, watching Harry come in between Basil and Payne’s glaring contest. Since no one screams, it might come off as a street performance, rather than a brewing fight.

Zayn just wishes to leave, to be honest. His idea of fun tonight didn’t include watching a brawl. If his wish is granted, that’s the firefly he sees headed to the lake. He doesn’t think twice before bolting into the park after it.

Above the lake, he finds a swarm of green lights floating in erratic patterns. Fairy lights freed from their string, dancing and spiralling to the night breeze. They’re like coloured snow that never falls down.

“Do we even have fireflies around here?”

Zayn leaps aside, hand flat to his chest. Even without the apologetic look, he’d still forgive Louis for the unintentional scare.

“I’ve only seen it on the telly,” he replies, turning back to the ballet of lights.

On a second thought, Louis has a point. Not only has Zayn not seen live fireflies before, the ones from the documentary _blinked_. Shine, then fade. Shine, then fade again. Unlike these, lit the entire time.

But this is hardly a thought, as Zayn beholds Louis following the glowing ballet with a smile. A soft, awed smile. It’s easy to tell this scene carries a special meaning to Louis, because then he’s beaming at it.

“It’s like we’re watching poetry,” he tells Zayn, eyes still to the sky. “A bit romantic, innit?”

 _Oh_.

Zayn glances left, then right. Behind them, too, just to be safe. No one else here. If this isn’t an opportunity, then he doesn’t know what else it could be.

He’s thought of more elaborate scenarios, and fancier outfits, but this is still good. The recent events with Erase have made him realise people dear to him can disappear _any_ time.

 _You can do it, Zayn. You can do it._ He takes a deep breath, coiling and uncoiling his fingers around his thumbs.

“Uhh... Lou?”

Louis turns to him, still smiling. “Yeah?”

A moment passes with Zayn willing his tongue to shrink to normal size, instead of bloating up and clogging his mouth. Why is it so hard? He’s not admitting a crime, nor that he killed Lou’s hamster. He’s ready for the mortifying ordeal of being known, and even if it turns out unrequited, he prefers to say it.

Better than disappearing with this secret. And since meeting Kero, his monthly near-death experiences have grown exponentially.

“I... I...”

Louis chuckles. “You you what?”

Had this been Basil, Zayn would have gone for the shin. A swift and hard kick. But when Louis teases him, there’s no apparent ill-intent. If anything, it only makes the flips that Zayn’s stomach does worthy of the Olympics.

“I... I like—”

_“Found you!”_

Zayn shrieks, blinking at the owner of the muffled voice that leaps out of the bushes. “Payne?!”

Louis stares at Zayn, then at a dishevelled Payne. “You like... Payne?”

“No!” Zayn and Payne shout in unison, then grimace at each other. “I don’t like him!” they add, still in perfect synch.

A piece of cake appears in Zayn’s mouth, and then he’s staring at Basil glaring at Payne. Harry is right behind. Chas and Niall are also here, for some reason.

“The main event is about to start.” Basil grabs Louis’ wrist, and places a fairy cake of cyan icing on Louis’ palm. “C’mon, Lou, Gremlin.”

As their friends make their way back to the festival, Zayn watches his brother guide Louis by the shoulders. His opportunity has come and gone. Another one like this won’t happen any time soon. He lacks even the energy to fight Payne’s parting death glare.

To his surprise (really not), arms wrap him in a comforting hug, and he gets to exhale. When did he start holding his breath? He has no idea. Might as well have not breathed at all this entire time.

“Failed confession or not, I’m proud of you,” Harry chirps, rubbing a flat palm over Zayn’s back. “It takes courage to do that, you know.”

“I know,” he replies, blowing a raspberry over Harry’s shoulder. When Harry holds him at arm’s length, both smile meekly. “Cheers, mate.”

“Any time.” Harry grins wide. “That’s what family is for.”

This time, no amount of weird fireflies can help Zayn. Maybe it’s for the best. With Louis gone, he can confirm something that’s been intriguing him.

Payne’s interruption might have another, bigger meaning. Because there’s one thing Payne is even more keen on than scowling 24/7.

Zayn reaches into his top, and fishes the small key dangling from his neck. He quietly turns it into a staff, and as quietly raises it among the firefly-like lights.

“Return to the guise you're meant to be in.” He closes his eyes. “Clow card.”

The green lights converge into the beak of his staff, and to his hand drops a card. It pictures a tiny ballerina-like elf in puffy clothes. Cradled in her arms, a large, puffy dandelion, tower over her.

“The Glow?” Zayn blinks. “Uh, I suppose it does _glow_.”

With a new card in his pocket, Zayn and Harry join their friends. Even if this festival were to end right now, he reckons he’s already made great memories.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> For inquiries on prompts and AUs, reach me @[zeskiyo](https://zeskiyo.tumblr.com/) on tumblr, or @[zeskiverse](https://twitter.com/zeskiverse) on twitter.


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